Almost Gone
by 2swords2
Summary: Sequel to "Almost Synthetic." John and Emily are living happily until one day Emily is kidnapped without a trace to her whereabouts. John spirals downward as he searches for her, until she shows up ... as a criminal. How will John get his Emily back? What will Emily do as she treks the world, committing crime? John/OC. Reduced to T rating. Read at your own risk. Language/violence.
1. Small Velvet Box

Hello everyone!

This is "Almost Gone," the sequel to "Almost Synthetic." Please read that before continuing on.

All set? Good.

Just a note before you start. I'm pairing each chapter with a song. You can listen to it if you want, either before, during, or after reading the chapter; or you can read the lyrics. Or not listen at all.

Disclaimer for every chapter: I do not own anything from Almost Human, nor do I own the songs I pair with the chapters. I only own my OC's and the plot.

Anyways, please enjoy!

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Song: "Like I'm Gonna Lose You" by Meghan Trainor ft. John Legend

* * *

 **Day 0**

Emily laid down on her car's horn. She swore at the other driver under her breath. She whipped into an open parking spot. Since she didn't need to straighten out, she put her car in park. She pulled her bag from the back seat. Her phone rang.

Emily answered the call. "Hi, John." She got out of her car and locked it.

"Where are you?" John asked, skipping out on a hello.

"Walking into the bakery on Lafayette Street." Emily answered as she opened the bakery door.

"Oh, what a nice surprise!" John sounded impressed.

"What makes you think I was planning on sharing with you?" Emily joked as she pointed out what she wanted in the display cases to the person who worked there.

"Sharing is caring." John replied.

Emily laughed. "I'll have to think about it." Emily's order was packaged and paid for. She thanked the bakery worker.

"I don't think you'll have to spend much time doing that." John answered.

Emily laughed. "You don't even know what I got."

"If I had to guess," John paused, "you got black and white cookies, sugar cookies, a couple gingersnaps, and a fudge brownie, without nuts. And of course some macaroons for me."

"Maybe yes, maybe no." Emily taunted. "I'll be home in fifteen minutes, okay?" She walked back to her car.

"Okay." John answered.

"I love you." Emily set the box of bakery desserts in the backseat of her car.

"I love you, too." John spoke gently.

"Bye."

"Bye."

Emily hung up and put her cellphone in her bag, which she put in the backseat of her car as well.

She circled around to the driver side of her car. She stared at the setting sun.

It was beautiful.

The colors lit up the sky as the sun disappeared behind buildings in the distance. The trails of reds and oranges and yellows streaked across the sky. Pinks shimmered in between. The golden rays of the sun brushed by Emily's face with a warm glow, bright and dim, hot and cold, beautiful. Emily tilted her head, gazing up and up and up. The sun reached so far despite its vast distance from the Earth. Emily inhaled the fresh air. She felt energy rush through her. The sun slowly moved away, setting below the horizon, the colors of the sky following it.

Pain blossomed at the base of Emily's skull. Blackness surrounded her vision. She felt herself, and her consciousness, slipping away. She fell, infinitely, until she was floating away.

She was in nothingness.

XxXxX

John made sure everything was perfect. The table was set. The lights were dim. The candles were shining. The flowers were bursting with color.

John turned to the stove. The pasta was cooking, the sauce was bubbling. He smiled. He was proud of himself. Two hours of video tutorials got him this far. All he had to do was serve it to Emily. His first successful cooked meal.

He pulled a small box from his pocket. It was a covered in a dark blue velvet. He opened the box.

He stared at the glittering diamond ring inside. He snapped the box shut and put it back in his pocket.

He waited for Emily.

Fifteen minutes later, he started pacing. Emily said fifteen minutes in her call.

Five minutes after that, John called Emily. She didn't pick up. John pulled up a Find My Phone application and entered Emily's phone number.

It came up with a location. Her phone was right outside of the bakery on Lafayette Street.

Something wasn't right.

John got into his car, after turning the burners off on the stove and blowing out the candles, of course. He drove straight to Lafayette Street and parked behind what he knew was Emily's car. He had a hand hovering above his holstered gun on his hip.

He looked through the driver's window. Emily wasn't there. He peered into the backseat. He saw Emily's bag and the box from the bakery. Through the clear plastic covering, he could see black and white cookies, sugar cookies, gingersnaps, a fudge brownie, and macaroons. His guesses were correct.

He tried the driver door. Unlocked. He opened it. Nothing looked out of the ordinary. He reached down and popped open the trunk. He closed the door and went to the back of the car. The trunk was empty, aside for the typical spare tire, ice brush, spare portable synthetic limb charger, and spare gun. John slammed the trunk shut.

He straightened. He looked around, turning in a complete circle. He spotted something. He ran across the street, avoiding a passing car.

He saw an arm and two legs. They were Emily's.

Someone took her.

Someone took her and didn't want to be found. They knew Emily had synthetics.

And they took her.

John stood, staring at what was in front of him.

The Wall.

It was a solid metal and concrete wall. Nothing could pass over it without risking extreme consequences, whether you were leaving the City or entering it.

Someone took Emily. They could have been from over The Wall.

Did they take Emily back over there?

John called the police.

He waited for them to come.

His world slowed down as the world around him sped up.

He fell to his knees.

He didn't have it in himself to cry. He had to hold himself together. His hands curled into fists, pulsing with anger and sadness.

The small velvet box in his pocket dug into his thigh.

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There's the first chapter! Please favorite and follow if you want to continue reading. Also, review with your thoughts!

I hope to update soon!


	2. 72 Hour Odds

Hello everyone! I've already received several positive responses, so here's the next chapter.

Please enjoy!

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Song: "Summertime Sadness" by Lana Del Rey OR "Dream" by Imagine Dragons

(Sorry! I couldn't pick between them!)

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 **Day 1**

John sat in a chair in Captain Maldonado's office in the precinct, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and hands under his chin. His eyes were dry, red, and puffy. His foot tapped endlessly on the floor. His cold coffee rested on Maldonado's desk. He hadn't slept at all last night.

His mind couldn't compute anything.

Maldonado walked in silently.

John stood.

Maldonado put a hand on John's shoulder. "We're doing everything we can."

John pushed Maldonado's hand away. "What the hell do you mean? 'Everything you can?' It seems like you're doing nothing at all!" John raised his voice.

Maldonado remained calm, for her sake and John's. "I have half the precinct out canvassing. I have half our supply of drones out and sixty percent of the MX forces searching for Emily."

"That's not enough!" John turned and slammed his fists down on Maldonado's desk.

"John." Maldonado called out.

John sighed heavily. He slowly straightened. "At least tell me you'll do more." His voice was low, and angry.

Maldonado nodded.

John took his coffee and threw it in the trash. He walked out of Maldonado's office.

Dorian was waiting for him. "John." He walked next to him.

"She's gone." John sighed again.

"Gone?" Dorian asked.

"Gone!" John exclaimed. "Kidnapped! Taken! Stolen! … Gone."

Dorian stopped. John stopped walking as well.

"Emily's been kidnapped before and made it out. She's escaped or you've found her." Dorian reasoned.

"That's when we could track her synthetics, or we knew who took her, or she was able to walk on her own!" John answered forcefully.

"John, we'll find her." Dorian insisted.

John pushed past Dorian and went to the exit of the precinct. Nicholas and Peyton were standing there. Rudy was walking in the door.

"John." Nicholas spoke first.

John lifted his eyes to look at the group. He couldn't bring himself to say anything. He kept walking out of the precinct and to his car. He got in and locked the car doors. He opened his mouth and yelled. He screamed into nothingness. No one could hear him. He was alone. He kicked the baseboard at his feet, slammed his fists down on the dashboard, and punched the steering wheel, causing the car horn to go off multiple times.

After his rage had subsided, John started the car. He pulled out onto the road and drove. He drove and drove and drove. He wandered for hours, driving parallel to the coast, the waves crashing against the shore some distance below the road he was on. He wiped his eyes dry.

Meanwhile, Dorian stayed at the precinct to explain the situation to Emily's family and friends. Rudy clasped his hands over his mouth. Nicholas ran his fingers through his hair. Peyton started to cry. Dorian pulled her into a much needed comforting hug.

Something changed within John. He, however, preferred solitude. He stayed alone, avoided people and conversation, and became angry and abrasive. He didn't sleep that night.

He would barely sleep again.

* * *

 **Day 2**

John was in Maldonado's office again. He waited for any updates. His hands were in his lap, holding onto a coffee cup with near room-temperature coffee. His leg jiggled and bounced with nervousness and anticipation.

Maldonado walked in. "Kennex."

John stood.

"We filed a missing person's report." Maldonado informed him. "You need to understand that the odds of finding a missing person decrease significantly after 72 hours."

"I know the odds." John shot back.

Maldonado let out a long breath. "John."

"And why won't you let me investigate?" John curled his hands into fists.

"You're too personally involved."

"That just makes me all the more qualified!"

"John, trust in my decisions."

"I'm having a hard time doing that."

Maldonado sat at her desk. "If you want to help, sit at your desk and monitor incoming information."

John tensed, wanting to snap back. He didn't. He walked out and slumped down at his desk. His coffee was officially at room temperature. He tossed his cup in the trash.

* * *

 **Day 3**

John sat in the chair across from Maldonado's desk. He waited for his morning update.

Maldonado walked into her office, fully expecting John to be there. She closed her door. John didn't stand up for her.

Maldonado didn't offer pleasantries, knowing it wouldn't provide any comfort. "The bakery worker was of no help and there weren't any witnesses nearby at the time Emily was taken." Maldonado sat at her desk. "The Wall patrol had gone through that area five minutes prior to Emily's arrival at the bakery." She continued.

John made no movements to speak.

"The cameras that swept that two block section were pointed in the other direction."

John still didn't move.

"There were no discernible fingerprints on Emily's synthetics."

"Discernable?" John straightened in his chair, finally interested.

"There were several partial prints, but there were no matches in any databases."

John stood and walked to the door, swearing quietly under his breath.

"John." Maldonado called out.

John turned and faced her, but didn't speak.

"We'll find her."

John's eyes traveled to the floor. His hand was poised over the door handle. He sighed briefly and left.

* * *

 **Day 4**

John was in Maldonado's office, standing, pacing.

Maldonado came in.

"The 72 hours are up." John turned to her.

"I know."

"And?"

"We're still searching. We've put Emily's picture on the news."

"But?"

"It'll be harder to find her now."

"So?"

"I'm trying, John." Maldonado snapped, her tiredness showing. "I really am. I'm losing sleep over this, too." She paused. "You have to understand that we only have so much power over these kinds of things. Ask anyone in the precinct. They're all trying their hardest to find Emily. No stone will be left unturned." Maldonado sat down at her desk. "At this point in time, I'm giving you the authority to conduct your own investigation. But understand this: if I catch you going off the rails, your position here will be terminated. I get the fact that your love for Emily drives you to find her, but don't let your emotions cloud your judgement. You will be held responsible for your actions."

John nodded. "Don't worry. If I can't find Emily, I'll probably run and hide and die before you can fire me."

Maldonado opened her mouth to speak but John was already walking out of her office.

XxXxX

Later that night, John sat alone on his bed. He had the small velvet box in his hands. He flipped the top back and opened the box. He pulled the ring out and held it to the light. It gleamed and glittered, each facet reflecting the light. He rummaged around in his nightstand. He found an empty necklace chain. He slipped the ring on the chain. He clasped the chain around his neck.

The ring was cold against his skin. The diamond poked him, a constant reminder.

John put his pajamas and got into bed. He rolled to one side. The empty space next to him was like a dagger through his heart. He grasped the white sheets, pained that no one was there to fill them. He missed Emily, and her body, and her bright green eyes, and her blonde hair with bangs that hung in her eyes. He missed her smile, her laugh, her ever-present love for him.

John threw back the bed covers and went to his living room. He fluffed the pillows on the couch and grabbed a blanket. He sat down on the couch.

Sobs racked his body. His shoulders shook and his eyes refused to stop crying.

Granted, sleep did come, but it was plagued with nightmares.

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Please favorite, follow, and review with your thoughts!


	3. An Angering Betrayal

Hello everyone! Here's the next chapter, a bit of a short one. I might update again today.

Enjoy!

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Song: "Tear in My Heart" by Twenty One Pilots

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 **Day 7**

A week has passed and there's been no news.

John trudged from his couch to the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee. He had bags under his eyes. He turned the coffee maker on and it spit out fresh coffee in moments. John took his mug and sipped the hot coffee. He swallowed bitterness.

He rummaged around his cabinets for alcohol, any alcohol at all. He found a bottle of bourbon. He added a generous amount to his coffee. He took another sip. It tasted like bitterness and despair. Perfect for him.

John got himself to work, albeit an hour late. He shuffled over to Maldonado's office and slumped in the only available chair. Maldonado was on the phone. Within a minute, she hung up.

"A patrol unit spotted Emily."

John immediately perked up, his spirits rising.

"She… She was making an illegal weapons deal." Maldonado added, hesitant.

John couldn't accept what he just heard. His hands froze and then started to tremble. He curled them into fists.

"The unit took Emily and the person she was dealing with into custody. Then Emily knocked out the officer, taking his weapon. She shot the dealer and the patrol MX. She destroyed the MX's memory center. We can only assume she's on the run with a shipment of illegal arms. She's been covering her tracks, starting with killing that dealer."

John ran his fingers through his hair. He didn't know what to say or do. He sputtered for words. "She… She had to have been coerced or something."

Maldonado slowly shook her head. "She shot the dealer in cold blood."

"No." John whispered. "No, no, no, no!" His voice grew with anger.

"John," Maldonado tried to stay calm and calm John down as well, "sit down."

John realized he was standing. He slowly sank down into his seat. "Are we sure it's Emily?" He asked.

Maldonado nodded. "Yes, the officer and MX made a positive match to Emily. They were able to send that information to me." Maldonado opened a file and handed it to John.

John swiped through the series of pictures. One showed a tall, skinny man standing in front of a woman, Emily, with a crate by his feet. The next showed Emily handing money over. The next showed the patrol unit moving in for an arrest. The next showed the officer handcuffing the dealer. The next showed the officer moving to handcuff Emily. The next showed Emily throwing a quick punch, knocking the officer out cold. The next showed Emily grabbing the officer's gun as he fell to the ground. The next showed Emily shooting the dealer. The next showed Emily right before she shot the MX. The last four pictures happened in a matter of seconds.

John looked up at Maldonado. "That's her."

Maldonado took the file back. "I'm sorry."

"But how does she have synthetics?" John asked.

Maldonado shrugged. "She must have planned this. She had someone get black market synthetics for her so they weren't traceable."

"Have you tracked any recent synthetic deals on the Black Market?" John asked.

"That was Rudy on the phone." Maldonado explained. "He couldn't find anything." She paused. "She planned this very well, John. I'm sorry."

John tightened his jaw, looks of disgust and anger flooding his face. "I don't believe it." He muttered.

"We've started a search for her. When we get her, she will be arrested upon sight." Maldonado explained.

John shot the nastiest glance he could manage at Maldonado.

Maldonado was unfazed. "I'm taking you off this investigation. If you prove too reckless on other cases, I will have your duties reduced to Archives or CyberCom."

John stood, his fingernails digging into his palms.

"I'm sorry about Emily." Maldonado ended the conversation.

John stormed out of Maldonado's office.

* * *

 **Day 10**

John paced in his bedroom. Throughout his entire house, all of Emily's things were on the floor. In a fit of rage or passion, John ransacked the house, tossing and throwing Emily's things on the floor. Her clothes were on the floor. Pictures of her and John were knocked over, some cracked and broken. Emily's trinkets and decorations were on the floor or tipped on their sides. But John didn't touch the chargers for her synthetics. He knew those were too important.

John paced in his bedroom. He held the ring in between his fingers. He didn't know what to think.

Why would Emily do this? Was she secretly a criminal? Was she brainwashed? Was she radicalized? Was she coerced?

John picked up his drink from the nightstand. He took a long sip to finish it all off.

He made a vow that night. A vow to find Emily and to find the truth. To exonerate her if necessary. He promised to himself that he would hold it together, for Emily. For her friends and family. They deserved answers, too. He swore that he wouldn't let his emotions rule over his judgement. And he made a promise to Emily. That he would love her until proven otherwise. Until something so terrible turned him away from her, her would love her with all of his heart.

But he didn't know if he could keep all those promises.

John set down his empty glass.

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I hope you enjoyed! Review, favorite, and follow!

Happy Snow Day for all of you out there!


	4. Off the Rails

Hello everyone! Here's the next chapter, and it's quite a long one.

Enjoy.

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Song: "Jungle" by X Ambassadors and Jamie N Commons

* * *

 **Day 14**

John sat at his desk, researching, looking, searching for anything that could connect him to Emily. He had several open police cases around him. Maldonado had suspended him from active field case work after an incident with a suspect.

John turned to the photos of Emily's encounter with the patrol. He fully inspected the arms dealer Emily was with. Something caught John's attention. He zoomed in on the dealer's upper arm. With an enhancing program, John was able to render a full tattoo from the blurry picture. The tattoo was the symbol for the Brothers in Arms Gang.

John pulled up cases involving BiA Gang, many of which were still unsolved. There were several mentions of illegal arms dealing and some conflicts with law enforcement involving illegally-obtained arms. The precinct was tracking a recently stolen shipment of semi-automatic rifles that the BiA Gang had taken. Each crate had been numbered and catalogued.

John checked the missing crate number and switched back to the pictures of Emily and the BiA dealer. He zoomed in on the crate at Emily's feet. Most of the numbers were visible, and they matched the missing shipment.

But why is Emily dealing with the BiA?

John checked where the shipment came from. Stonewall Technologies shipped them through Global Mobile, and the intended recipient was Lockdown Services, which provided private security to many major companies in the nation.

John couldn't think of a reason why Emily would do this. He decided to take a different approach. He grabbed his jacket and headed out of the precinct.

"John." Dorian called out.

John sighed. "What." He clearly displayed his annoyance.

"Maldonado told me to keep an eye on you." Dorian answered, keeping calm.

John zipped up his jacket. "I need a babysitter now?" The two exited the precinct and walked towards the car.

"She's just concerned for you." Dorian tried to reason. "You're lucky she's even letting you keep your unit." He added as they got into the car.

"Lucky, huh?" John started the car. "Tell Maldonado that Emily was lucky two weeks ago when she was kidnapped and then turned into a criminal."

Dorian didn't respond.

John drove in silence to one of the badder parts of the city. He parked the car and got out. Dorian followed him.

"Stay with the car." John ordered.

"John-"

"Do you want to walk back to the precinct? Watch the car." John threatened.

Dorian tried to decipher if John would have forced him to walk back to the precinct, or that the car was a high target for auto theft. "But I need to keep an eye on you." Dorian finally spoke up.

"Keep an eye on me from a distance." John shot back as he walked away.

Dorian stayed with the car.

John walked half a block to a white sedan that was parked, haphazardly. He knocked on the window. The person within the car rolled the window down.

"Johnny!" The person within, whom John knew as Skip, exclaimed happily. "What can I do ya for?"

"I'm gonna cut to the chase, Skip." John showed no positiveness to match Skip's. "I need information."

"Well, that's gonna cost ya." Skip answered.

"How about I don't arrest you?" John offered, smirking slightly.

"I've got no charges against me. No warrants, no nothin'." Skip held his hands up in defense.

"That's an open bottle of liquor." John nodded to the passenger seat. "With your history, that's probably a felony."

Skip sputtered, trying to find meaningful words.

"Information. Now." John commanded.

"What do ya want to know?" Skip asked, voice lowered.

"Brothers in Arms stole an arms shipment from Stonewall Tech. They shipped through Global Mobile and it was going to Lockdown."

"Ya seem to have all the facts."

"Tell me about the woman."

"Woman?"

"Blonde."

"Blonde woman?"

"She was buying the shipment from BiA."

"Oh, that blonde woman." Skip paused, thinking. "She's new to the scene. Already made a huge impact. She's not associating with anyone. But she's been seen dealing with BiA, InSyndicate, Russian Blood, and whatever small extremists are in the area."

"And?"

"And… She's found a Banker, so she can move funds. She's got a Shipper, but I don't know for how long. But she went through BackDoor to find 'em. The word on the street is that she's going to Michael's today for new creds. Then she's gonna jump outta town."

"And?"

"And that's it! I swear, Johnny. I swear!" Skip insisted.

John shot him a glance as he straightened. "Take care, Skip. I'll come calling soon."

"Bring me a piece of their pie." Skip said as he rolled up his window.

"Goodbye, Skip." John ended the conversation for good. He walked back over to Dorian.

"Well? What did your informant say?"

"We're going to Michael's."

"Michael's?" Dorian's face lit up, glowing blue.

"Don't tell Maldonado!" John got pissed off.

"Too late." Dorian answered. "I have orders, too, you know."

"So what." John huffed.

Dorian's face lit up again. "Maldonado said you could go, but she expects a full report when we get back to the precinct."

"Tell _Mom_ I'll try to be back home before dark." John pushed past Dorian and got into the car. Dorian rolled his eyes as he circled around the car.

John started the car and they were off to Michael's.

XxXxX

John and Dorian walked into an old abandoned restaurant at the edge of the city, called Michael's Pizzeria. John pushed his way through the broken front door.

"Sorry, boys. Business is closed." A man called out as he emerged from a back room, the kitchen most likely. He was short with greasy hair and a styled moustache. He wore a black suit. "Besides, you smell like coppers to me." He had a heavy Italian accent.

"Off the books." John answered.

"Anthony!" The man called out. Anthony emerged from the kitchen. He was a muscular man. He held back his suit jacket to show a gun. "No funny business." The man warned.

John nodded.

The man gestured to a table. John stepped forward and sat down. Dorian stood behind John; Anthony stood behind the man.

"Michael." John started.

"Ah-ah. In my house, you'll refer to me as Mister Bianchi." He waved a finger. "Now, house rules. Nothing done or said here today will incriminate me or my associates in any way. Any evidence recovered from here is an illegal search and seizure. Any threats you make are unprovoked." He smiled a little. "If any of this comes back to me, you'll be sleepin' with the fishes." He shook his fist gently.

"I got it, Mister Bianchi." John sat back in his seat. "All I want is information."

"So be it." Bianchi crossed his arms.

John pulled up a picture of Emily and showed it to Mister Bianchi. "What did she come to you for?"

"She needed new passports and licenses."

"What identities did you give her?"

"I can't say. It violates privileges."

"Where was she going?"

"She mentioned Europe."

"Is she hauling anything?"

"I think she's amassed some guns and ammunitions."

"Who's her Banker?"

"I don't know."

"Are you sure?"

"I mean, I don't know. But I also don't know that the woman was going to the north end of town for a meeting. I didn't hear anything about that."

John nodded.

Something clattered in the kitchen. John rose out of his seat.

" _Figurati_! Don't worry about it!" Bianchi tried to wave away the situation.

John continued back to the kitchen of the restaurant. Bianchi sighed, holding up a hand, as to inform Anthony to let John go investigate. Dorian quickly caught up to John.

John pushed through the swinging doors to see three bodies. Well, two bodies. The third was a man who had a meat cleaver sticking out of his stomach. He gasped for air until fading away. He had knocked a metal pan over on his desperate crawl to the door for help. The other two bodies had been stabbed to death, most likely with that meat cleaver.

Bianchi came into the kitchen. "What a mess." He muttered.

"Did she do this?" John asked.

"Yes, yes. She wasn't very happy with my prices. Killed most of my men and pointed a gun at my face while she made off with my goods." Bianchi answered.

"Do you have it out for her now?" John asked.

"More or less." Bianchi shrugged. "She still gave me a hundred K."

John huffed lightly. "Thank you for your time, Mister Bianchi." He couldn't take his eyes off of the bloody scene in front of him.

"My pleasure." Bianchi answered.

John and Dorian exited the restaurant.

"Now what?" Dorian asked.

"Now we find the Banker." John started the car.

XxXxX

John and Dorian arrived at the north end of town. There were only two Bankers known in the area, Avery McAdams and Marcus Aurelius (which is a play on the Roman Emperor, Marcus Aurelius). Avery McAdams only involved herself in corporate financing or big ticket business men looking to hide their money offshore. Marcus Aurelius specialized in the moving and hiding of money for private individuals who wanted to have money for illegal purchases or if they ever needed to go on the run. Emily met both of these requirements, so John sought out Marcus Aurelius.

John and Dorian meandered around the area until the found a suspicious hole in the wall in an alleyway. John opened the door and entered into a small gray, dimly lit antechamber, where a woman at a desk sat typing on a computer.

"Can I help you?" She asked, in monotone, not even looking up at John and Dorian.

"I'm looking for Marcus Aurelius." John answered.

"Um…" The woman slowed her typing. "Do you have an appointment?" She spared a glance towards John.

"Uh, no?" John replied.

"You can come back later… Maybe in four months? Possibly three if you make an appointment immediately."

"I'm not waiting." John insisted.

"Sorry. He's not available right now." The woman remained indifferent.

"Is he through here?" John asking moving towards another door.

The woman peeled her eyes away from her computer screen. "Hey, you're not allowed in there!"

John's hand was already turning the doorknob. He pushed the door open. He stepped into a large, open area, that took up the entire building floor, with rows upon rows of people sitting at tables with money in front of them. Some had paper bills, some had coins. They were sorting them, counting them. When they finished with a set, they would bring them over to another row of tables, where people stacked the piles of bills or rolls of coins. Banners of electronic stock tickers scrolled by on boards hanging above everyone's heads. Only a handful of people looked like they were over 18 years old.

None of this seemed legal.

A man emerged from a frosted glass office in the corner of the room. "Ah, gentlemen! How may I assist you?" He smiled brightly, but John caught a glint of a gun under the man's suit jacket. "Marcus Aurelius helps all who come here." The man, Marcus Aurelius, referred to himself in the third person.

"I need to know if this woman came to you." John showed Marcus a picture of Emily.

"Yes, yes, she has." Marcus nodded. "Now I get to ask you a question."

Before John could protest, Marcus held up a hand. "I have an agreement with law enforcement that no officer is to set foot inside my building. So why are you here?" Marcus crossed his arms.

"I didn't come here as an officer. I came for information. That's it."

"Fair enough."

It was John's turn to ask a question. "What did this woman come to you for?"

"She wanted funds moved offshore into one account for 'emergencies,' as she put it, and some into an active account for paying purchases." Marcus answered. "If you're not here as an officer, why are you investigating this woman?"

John huffed, tightening his jaw for a moment. "She's my girlfriend."

"An officer dating a criminal?" Marcus threw his head back in laughter. "Ha! That's golden." He wiped a tear from his eye.

John narrowed his eyes. "What are the account numbers you established for her?"

"Don't know." Marcus shrugged. "They're randomized and encrypted. People get to look at the account number, remember it, then all information about it is deleted from the servers here. Only my clients know their account numbers and passcodes." Marcus paused, thinking of his next question. "If she's your girlfriend, why aren't you with her?"

"I've been asking myself that for two weeks." John responded. "Did she tell you where she was going next?" John asked.

Marcus thought for a moment. "France. Paris, most likely."

"Thank you." John moved to leave.

"Hold on." Marcus stopped him. "I get one more question."

John sighed and stayed put.

"How far are you willing to go?" Marcus asked.

"Far enough." John answered. He swiftly left. Dorian followed.

The woman in the middle room stared John down while her fingers continued to type rapidly. John narrowed his eyes and exited to the street.

John still couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that Emily was now a criminal who was amassing her assets and setting out to become an international fugitive. What made her like this? His heart couldn't take the strain, his breath hitching in his throat.

"John." Dorian called out.

John stopped walking towards the car.

"You've gone far enough." Dorian warned.

"I've gotta find Emily." John answered. "I have to find out why she's doing this."

"You're not going to Paris."

"Maybe I am."

"No." Dorian's face lit up blue. "I am reporting to Maldonado everything you've done today. She'll be the one to decide what you'll do."

"She doesn't have that authority."

"Yes, John. She does."

"I'm done with your bullshit. I'm done with everyone's bullshit."

"I understand." Dorian sighed. "But you need to understand that you cannot go off on your own, under your own authority, and investigate Emily's case. Let the police handle that. The real, fully-instated police."

"Fuck you." John spat. "When you see someone you care for go off the rails, you can't stand idly by."

"That's exactly what I'm doing with you." Dorian bluntly answered.

John stopped in his angry tracks. He curled his hands into fists. "Get in the fucking car." He growled.

Dorian got in the car.

John got in and started the car. "Fuck the police."

* * *

I hope you all enjoyed. Please favorite and follow, as well as review with your thoughts! They keep me going!


	5. Cops and Robbers

Hello everyone! Here's the next chapter and it's a nice change of pace.

Enjoy!

* * *

Song: "Adventure of a Lifetime" by Coldplay

* * *

 **Day 15**

John slowly shuffled forward in the line. He huffed, getting angrier by the second. His jacket was draped over his arm, bag in one hand, and his ticket file in the other. He grew closer to the front of the line. Ten people, seven people, six people, four people, three people, one person.

John reached the front and handed his ticket file to the nice, smiling woman in front of him. The woman scanned it and handed the ticket file back. She gave a quick, polite nod. "Enjoy your flight."

John took his ticket file and went through a set of doors. He walked down the long boarding bridge until he got to the plane door. He stepped over the threshold and was greeted by two smiling flight attendants. He quickly turned to the aisle and walked down, looking for his seat. 8B.

His phone rang. He answered.

"John, where the hell are you?" Maldonado yelled across the line.

"Does it matter?" John answered. "I'm taking a day off."

"You signed for a month of vacation." Maldonado snapped back.

"Maybe I needed a month off."

"Dorian told me that you found out Emily was in France."

"Paris, to be specific."

"I swear, Kennex, that if I find you in Paris, you will be court martialed and chained to a desk for the rest of your life."

"Sorry, the flight attendant is telling me to turn my phone off."

"Kennex-"

"Bye!"

John hung up and turned his phone off. He pocketed his device and continued down the aisle until he found his seat.

He tossed his carry-on into the overhead compartment and settled into his window seat. He buckled his seatbelt and stared out of the window. He watched the luggage being loaded onto the airplane next door.

He heard some noise and turned to see a family of three cramming their carry-ons into the overhead compartment across the aisle from him. The father settled into the window seat and started listening to music, ignoring everyone. The mother passed a pillow, tablet, and a bag of snacks to her young son. She pointed to the seat next to John and the young boy hopped up on the seat. He tucked the tablet in between his seat and John's. He put the pillow and bag of snacks in his lap and buckled his belt.

John swore in his head. He'd have to manage this flight with an annoying brat next to him.

The plane finished loading passengers and the airplane doors sealed themselves. The flight attendant performed the motions for passenger safety while a pre-recorded message played throughout the cabin.

Within moments, the airplane was taxiing down the tarmac. The airplane accelerated and was airborne. John popped his ears to even out the pressure and got comfortable.

The little boy was staring out of the window as the airplane curved upward. He had to lean forward to see past John. His eyes were wide with amazement.

After five minutes or so, a flight attendant came on the intercom. "Good morning ladies and gentlemen. It's nearly 10:15, local time. Our flight today will be a total of about eight hours and we will land at 3:05 Paris time. We'll be coming by halfway through the flight with meal selections. Once we're at cruising altitude, we'll come by with drinks. We know there are a lot of choices out there, so we thank you for flying with Air France. Enjoy your flight."

The airplane soon evened out and screen embedded in the seat in front of John lit up. He immediately punched the order for a beer. The order was submitted and would be delivered shortly. John looked over and saw the young boy next to him struggling to reach the screen. His seatbelt was restraining him and his short fingers were an inch away from the milk order.

John leaned over and tapped it for the little boy.

"Thank you, mister." His tiny voice sounded.

John was taken aback by the little boy's good behavior. "You're welcome."

"I'm Wyatt." The boy answered as he powered on his tablet.

"I'm John."

"It's nice to meet you, sir." The boy opened an app for a running game.

"You don't have to call me 'sir.'"

"Okay."

"What are you playing?"

"Cops and Robbers."

"Oh?"

"You can play as a cop and chase the robber through the city or play as the robber and run away from the cop."

"Oh, I see."

"It's pretty fun. I like outfits you can get."

Wyatt balanced his tablet on his lap and used his pointer fingers to control his cop as it chased the robber.

"Do you wanna hear something really cool?" John offered.

"Yeah!" Wyatt paused his game.

"I'm actually a police officer."

"Really?"

"Really." John smiled warmly.

"Do you catch bad guys?"

"Yup."

"That's the best job in the world."

"I have to say it is."

"I wanna be a police officer when I grow up."

"That's good. But you gotta make sure you're brave and courageous and honest."

Wyatt's eyes widened as he nodded with a serious face.

"But above all, you have to be compassionate."

Wyatt nodded again.

"Do you know what that means?"

"To help everyone?"

"Absolutely."

"Do you help everyone?"

John paused. "I try to."

The drinks they ordered arrived. The flight attendant handed them over and John gave a quick nod in thanks.

John touched a small button next to the screen he ordered from and a cover surrounded the screen. The screen flipped down to reveal a tray, when John set his drink down. He looked over and saw Wyatt trying to hold onto his drink without spilling while he leaned forward to try and get his tray down. John pressed the button for him.

"Thank you." Wyatt answered as he put his milk down. He continued with his game.

John sat back in his chair, watching over Wyatt. John slowly drank his beer, fully expecting to have finished it by now before he found out nice, little Wyatt was sitting next to him. An hour or so had passed and flight attendants came through passing out blankets. John reclined his seat and settled down for a nap.

Wyatt powered down his tablet, pulled out his pillow, and curled up in his large oversized airplane seat. He fell asleep almost immediately.

John, however, tossed and turned, unable to find a comfortable position. He just couldn't sleep. He stood up, quietly making his way past Wyatt. He opened the overhead compartment and took out his carry-on. He sat back down and pulled out the files he packed for his trip.

He pulled out his tray once more and spread out his files as best he could. He read over all of them, trying to find any more clues to Emily's intentions or whereabouts.

John started a separate file of what he knew.

-Emily was taken on Lafayette Street outside bakery

-Synthetics were by The Wall

-Bakery worker couldn't help

-Patrol/cameras were not in/directed at the area

-*Kidnapping/disappearance was planned

-New synthetics bought on Black Market

-Emily dealt with BiA for arms

-Arms from Stonewall Tech, moved through Global Mobile, going to Lockdown Services

-Emily killed dealer, assaulted officer, destroyed MX

-Emily went to Michael Bianchi for credentials

-Bianchi has an order out for Emily's capture

-Bianchi knew Emily had BiA guns

-Emily went to Marcus Aurelius to move money

-*Emily has a Shipper (who?), went through BackDoor

-*What is Emily shipping?

-*Why is Emily in Paris?

-*What is Emily's endgame?

John sighed and leaned back into his seat. The lights of the airplane cabin were slowly rising in brightness. Meal selections were already being submitted to the flight attendants. Wyatt stirred in his seat, waking up. He pushed his blanket to the side and yawned.

"Why didn't you sleep?" Wyatt asked, rubbing his eyes.

"Oh…" John stumbled for an answer. 'How did Wyatt know I wasn't sleeping?' John thought.

Wyatt put his pillow in his lap.

"I had work to do." John finally answered.

"Were you finding a bad guy?"

"Yeah."

Wyatt looked at John's files. "Who's she?"

"She's the bad guy I'm tracking."

"Oh." Wyatt frowned. "Then why is she on your tablet background, hugging you?"

John froze. He curled his hands into fists for a moment, but then gently relaxed them. "She was my girlfriend."

"'Was?'"

"She started doing bad things."

"Oh… Are you trying to find her?"

"Yes."

Wyatt pulled out his tablet and turned it on. "Is that why you're going to Paris?"

"Yeah."

"Are you gonna say you love her when you find her?"

John snapped his eyes shut and took a long, slow deep breath. He exhaled and opened his eyes. "I am."

"Promise?"

"Why do I have to promise?"

"Because…" Wyatt started playing his game again. "You still love her, right? Even though she did bad stuff, you still love her. So you gotta promise."

John turned to look out the airplane window. "I promise."

* * *

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	6. Explosion in Paris

Hello everyone! Sorry for the long wait, but here is the next chapter!

A quick recap: John is chasing Emily to Paris, but met a nice little boy named Wyatt on his flight over.

Please enjoy.

* * *

Song: "Paris" by Magic Man

* * *

 **Day 16**

John landed in Paris early in the morning, about 3:00AM, and regretfully said goodbye to Wyatt. The little guy was growing on him. He had a good head on his shoulders.

John took his things from the overhead compartment and shuffled off the airplane. He made his way down to baggage claim and pulled his suitcase off the rotating belt. He rolled his suitcase behind him as he walked down a line of drivers holding electronic signs with people's names on them.

John saw a sign with his name on it.

"Are you Detective John Kennex?" The man holding the sign asked.

John nodded.

"I'm Captain Jacques Baudin with the French Police Force." He held out a hand.

John shook it.

Captain Baudin led him away and towards a row of cars outside. "We received your message about Miss Emily Clark and her crimes. We'll provide any help you will need. Do you need a weapon?"

"No, I packed it." John answered.

"Very good, very good." Baudin stopped at a police car and loaded John's luggage into the trunk. John sat in the passenger seat and Baudin drove.

"I'll take you to the station, yeah? You can use our computers there. And you can access our open cases and street cameras until you find your suspect."

"Thank you."

"Do you have my number yet?" Baudin asked, passing his phone to John. "Put yourself in there, too."

"Of course." John fiddled around and added himself as a contact. He added Baudin's number on his own phone.

"If you need anything, anything at all, let me know." Baudin insisted.

"Do you know where Hotel Saint-Louis is?" John asked.

"Oh, Hotel Saint-Louis?" Baudin pronounced the hotel's name correctly. "Yes, I'll take you there now."

"Thanks."

"You can catch up on your sleep, yeah? I'll pick you up at noon."

"Thanks."

Baudin put the car in park and John got out. "Call me if you need anything."

John nodded and retrieved his luggage. He crossed the street and entered Hotel Saint-Louis. He walked up to the receptionist's desk. There was a woman standing there, typing at a computer.

"Bonjour." She smiled.

"Hello." John answered.

"How may I help you, sir?" She spoke in English, with a French accent.

"I have a room reserved under Kennex."

"Of course." The woman tapped a few computer keys and then handed over a room card to John. "The elevators are to your left. Have a wonderful stay."

John thanked her and took the elevator to his room. He dropped his luggage on the floor and walked straight to the tiny balcony his room had. He leaned on the railing and looked down at the people below him. There was a cafe across the street, still open, that was illuminated by streetlights and glowing candlelight. John saw a person, a woman, rise from her seat and put on a crisp, white jacket over her white dress and pull a white purse on her shoulder. She glanced upwards, directly at John. She turned and walked away, down the street.

John rushed to his suitcase and quickly pulled out his gun. He sprinted down the hotel stairs, knowing the elevator would be too slow. He exited the hotel in a rush. He crossed the street, towards the cafe, and then turned to follow where the woman went. He ran down the street, his gun clutched tightly in his hand. He saw white in the corner of his vision. He turned down another street and follow the woman in white.

They crossed over a bridge. John was closing the distance in between them. A street sweeper came barreling down the street. The woman was quick enough to pass the sweeper, cutting John off, forcing him to wait for the sweeper to pass. John started to run again, but had lost sight of the woman. He went forward a block, looking left and right for the woman. He spied her to the right. He sprinted again, quickly catching up to the woman.

"Emily!" John called out.

The woman turned around. She smiled. It _was_ Emily. It was _Emily_.

John stopped running. He was frozen. She was right there in front of him, within reach, only a yard or two separating them. John could take her back into his arms, hold onto her forever. He yearned to touch her. But his hand remained still at his side.

Emily reached into her purse and pulled something out. John tilted his head in confusion. It was a cellphone. Emily tapped something into a cell phone.

An explosion rocketed behind John. John was thrown forward to the ground. His head slammed down on the hard cement sidewalk. He could feel the tiny beads of blood spurt from a cut on his forehead. He raised his head, disorientation setting in. He saw Emily, walking away. He turned to look behind him as he stood up.

John couldn't believe his eyes. It was a five-story hotel. Three of its top floors were blasted to smithereens. The rest of the building was engulfed in flames. People dressed in their pajamas streamed out of the front door, the lucky ones that had rooms on the first or second floors. John stumbled forward, unable to help. Fire truck sirens were already screeching down the street. John was still gripping his gun.

A tiny figure stumbled out of the doors and onto the sidewalk. They ran up to John and hugged his legs.

"Mr. John, Mr. John! I'm scared!" The small person started to cry.

John tucked his gun into the back of his pants. "Don't worry, Wyatt." John picked up Wyatt and held him close. Wyatt put his small arms around John's neck. "Everything is going to be okay." He tried to reassure him.

John moved closer to the fire engines and ambulances, explaining to some that he was police officer. Captain Baudin eventually showed up and took control of the situation.

"This was your suspect, wasn't it?" Baudin asked John. "That woman?"

John nodded, rubbing Wyatt's back to calm him down.

Baudin gestured for John to hand over Wyatt, so he could get medical attention. John shook his head.

Wyatt eventually calmed down, and soon fell asleep on John's shoulder.

John stared ahead at the scene in front of him. Flames raged on and firemen continued to direct their massive water supply. Search and rescue bots went into the flames and retrieved people who had been trapped in their rooms. The French MX's directed traffic away and sealed off the area. People rushed all about John, their movements either frantic or calculating. Everyone was in motion.

John stood there, staring ahead. He knew what was happening. This storm was only beginning.

* * *

Later that day, almost close to dinner time, John sat at an extra desk in the Paris precinct, switching between street cameras of his pursuit of Emily. He watched as the hotel exploded into flames, as he was thrown to the ground, as Emily walked away. John followed her with the cameras until she got into a car that was waiting for her and drove away.

Baudin came into the Paris precinct, which was a bit empty at the moment. Only a few officers remained, either to work on other cases or to coordinate the officers who were out in the field, whether they were managing the explosion or other crimes. Baudin walked up to John at his borrowed desk and set down a take out container in front of him.

"I thought you would be hungry. You don't strike me as a French food man, so I got you a sandwich." Baudin spoke, opening his own take out container, which had a portion of pot-au-feu, a dish with slow-cooked beef and vegetables, among other things.

"Thanks." John took out his sandwich, which was plain enough for him. He took a bite. It was delicious.

"Have you found anything out about your woman?" Baudin asked, sitting on his desk and eating his dinner.

"No, not much." John shook his head. He continued to watch Emily get into her car. Switching through several street cameras, he tried to get a better view of the driver or the license plate. He had no such luck. Instead, he followed the car with the cameras until it parked in front of a warehouse. Emily exited the car and knocked on the entrance to the building. A man opened the door to let Emily in. The man looked around if anyone was watching. He closed the door. John fast forwarded on the tapes, but Emily never exited. She might have slipped out a back door or something like that. John went back to the man who opened the door. He ran the face through the Paris's facial recognition program.

A result came up right away. Hubert Delano. A red alert popped up and revealed dozens of crimes that Delano was wanted for.

"Delano. He's a bad apple, that one." Baudin spoke up.

"I can see that." John kept swiping through Delano's charges and convictions. "Is there anything this guy hasn't committed?"

"At this point, probably not." Baudin replied.

John continued with his dinner. "Where does Delano usually hide out?"

"A warehouse on Rue Joubert, usually." Baudin went over to John, setting down his meal.

"Is it this one?" John asked, pointing to the screen, with the image of Emily entering a warehouse and then Delano peeking out.

"Yes, that's it." Baudin confirmed.

"Have you ever raided the place?" John asked.

"No, no. Our Police Major won't let us. He's waiting to see who Delano's buyer and suppliers are." Baudin sighed. The Police Major was clearly the only one around here that Baudin has to take orders from.

"Well Emily is clearly one of those people." John argued.

" _Oui_ , I agree with you." Baudin nodded his head.

"So can we raid the place now?" John asked, growing impatient and nervous at the same time.

"Let me call the Major." Baudin offered. He walked over to his desk and picked up his phone. He dialed a number he knew by heart. The Major answered after three rings.

Baudin started explaining the situation to the Major in French. Baudin listened and then started arguing.

John could not keep up with the conversation nor could he understand any for the words being spoken. He leaned back in his chair and waited for the phone call to finish.

" _Oui, oui,... Oui."_ Baudin finally ended the call. "I am sorry, John. He said 'no.'" Baudin looked over at John.

John rubbed his temple angrily as he tried to think of his next move.

"But what's to stop me from bringing you to a nice cafe across the street from Delano's warehouse?" Baudin smiled a little.

John looked at him, surprised. "You'd do that for me?"

Baudin nodded. "However, I'm taking you to your hotel first. You need a good night's sleep."

John did not have the energy to argue so he let Baudin drive him to his hotel. John changed into pajamas and went into the small bathroom. He brushed his teeth and washed any remaining dirt from his face and arms from the explosion. John looked up, staring at himself in the mirror. The cut on his forehead was held together by two small butterfly bandages. But the injury went much deeper than the surface. John's mind was in shambles.

He didn't know how he would manage anymore. Emily killed all those people. He didn't know how much he could still hold onto the woman that Emily used to be. In the mirror, he saw the chain with the ring around his neck. His promise to Emily.

John slammed his fist down on the edge of the sink. He was powerless.

He took Baudin's advice and got into bed for a meager night's sleep. John was in a twin-sized bed. The smallness helped John fall asleep, without feeling empty room where Emily would have been.

John slept poorly, but he slept.

* * *

I'll try to update soon!

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	7. Shootout in Amsterdam

Hello everyone! Here's the next chapter. It's a bit of a long one. Aren't you lucky?

Enjoy.

* * *

Song: "Amsterdam" by Imagine Dragons

* * *

 **Day 19**

A few days had passed since Emily's explosion at the hotel. John returned to the Paris precinct each day, twiddled his thumbs, and waited for any updates on Emily's or Delano's whereabouts. Today, John watched Baudin hang up a call.

"John," Baudin called out, "a tip came in that Emily Clark and Hubert Delano were spotted at the train station in Amsterdam."

"Amsterdam?" John stood and walked over to Baudin.

" _Oui_ , you can go there now. I'll get you a train ticket." Baudin nodded.

"Should I get my things from the hotel?" John asked.

"Of course, of course. I'll take you on the way to the station." Baudin nodded, grabbing the keys to his unit.

John followed Baudin out of the Paris precinct and got into his unit. Baudin drove John to Hotel Saint-Louis so John could check out and grab his luggage. They drove to the train station.

"You can go to the Help Desk in the center of the station. You can ask for your ticket there. It's under your name." Baudin explained.

"Thanks." John answered as Baudin pulled into the parking lot of the train station. "For everything." John held out his hand.

Baudin shook it. "I hope you get your woman."

John nodded and got out of Baudin's unit. He got his luggage from the trunk and started towards the train station.

"Hey, Kennex." Baudin called out of his window.

John stopped and turned.

"My statement from before still holds. If you need anything, give me a call." Baudin insisted.

John nodded and continued into the train station. He went to the Help Desk and picked up his ticket. He sat and waited for his train to arrive, which only took fifteen minutes. John boarded his train, stowed his suitcase and walked down half a car. He looked down at his ticket, trying to find his seat. He looked around to realize that Baudin had booked his a private room. John slipped into his room. It felt like an old-timey sleeper car. John settled down on the couch-like seat and dropped his carry-on down next him. John pulled out his tablet and looked at his notes about Emily, specifically the ones he starred as important.

-*Kidnapping/disappearance was planned

-*Emily has a Shipper (who?), went through BackDoor

-*What is Emily shipping?

-*Why is Emily in Paris?

-*What is Emily's endgame?

John started to add and edit his notes.

-*Why is Emily in Paris? - She blew up a Hotel, but why?

-*What is Emily's endgame?

-Emily sought out Hubert Delano, but why?

-Emily fled with Delano to Amsterdam

-*What is Emily going to do in Amsterdam?

John stared at the question "What is Emily's endgame?" until his eyes hurt. John turned and looked out the large window in his room. The train was pulling out of the station. The window stretched from top to bottom and left to right. The scenery passing by was beautiful. John set his tablet down and stared out of the window.

John lost himself in his thoughts. Why did Emily turn in the first place? Was it for money? Or power? Or something else? Was she even turned? Was she brainwashed or coerced? Is her true consciousness trapped in her mind and she's being forced to watch all the terrible things she's doing? Or was she always a criminal? Her position in the precinct allowed her to get all the intel or weapons she could need. Is anyone else on the police force in on this? What are her connections around the world? Did she always have them, or did she immediately make connections with gangs and then spread globally?

More importantly, why? Why would Emily do this to me? Was our love a sham? A cover? Was any of this real?

John's hand slowly rose and clasped around the ring on the chain that hung around his neck. He clutched it tightly, the edges of the diamond digging into his palm.

The train pulled into the Amsterdam station. John let go of the ring.

John disembarked and took all of his luggage with him. It started raining but John was safe for the moment inside the station. He downloaded a city map of Amsterdam onto his phone so he would know where he's going. He opened an email from Baudin. He booked a hotel room for John. John smiled.

He slung his carry on over his shoulder and rolled his suitcase behind him. His phone said the hotel was only a few blocks away. John set out on his way.

"Detective!" Someone called out.

John continued down the street, getting wet from the rain as he did so.

"Detective!" The person called again.

John paused to look down at his phone. He took a right.

" _Excuseer mij._ " The person pushed past pedestrians.

John looked before he crossed the street, halfway to his hotel already.

Someone put their hand on John's shoulder. John turned around.

In front of him was a short, young woman dressed in a Netherlandic police uniform. Based on the stars and stripes, as well as the shiny new cover she was wearing, she was a rookie. She gave John a quick salute out of habit.

"I'm Constable Nikki Daube." She held out her hand.

John put his phone away and shook her hand. "Detective John Kennex."

Daube nodded. "I know." She smiled lightly. "Captain Jacques Baudin called Amsterdam Police and told us about you. We have interesting camera footage already that we think you should see." She explained.

John nodded. "I hope we're not walking to the precinct."

Daube laughed. "No, my car is at the train station."

John walked with Daube back to the train station, where her unit was parked. The rain still held, and John shivered, soaked to the bone. John put his luggage into the trunk, but not before pulling his gun out of his suitcase. He clipped his holster on and secured his weapon before getting into Daube's unit.

Daube started her unit and turned the heater up and started the windshield wipers. She took her cover off and let the excess water roll off of it and onto the floor of the car. She put it back on.

John buckled his seatbelt and Daube started driving towards the precinct. They cruised down the streets of Amsterdam; John took in the scenery as he stared out of the window.

Suddenly, Daube slammed on the breaks. John was thrown forward, the seat belt locking, nearly choking him.

"What the hell?" John turned to Daube.

Daube's eyes were wide as she stared out of the windshield. Her hands were clenched tightly on the steering wheel, her foot jammed down on the brake. John looked along Daube's eyeline.

Nothing but the beating rain and the thumping windshield wipers made noise.

That is, until Emily started firing her gun.

People screamed and ran towards safety.

The bulletproof windshield caught the bullet without problem, but John and Daube still ducked out of reflex. Both of them looked back up to see Emily and a tactical team of renegade mercenaries each packed to the armpits with guns. Emily, only armed with a sidearm, hauled a scared looking man by the back of his neck. The man was dressed in a business executive suit and dress shoes.

The rain poured down on Emily and her hired team of nearly twenty. Her drenched hair stuck to her skin, but she pressed onward, kicking and shoving her captive to keep up the pace.

Duabe radioed for backup and got out of her unit. Her kneeled behind her open door, getting rained on once again. "Freeze!" She yelled, pointing her weapon towards Emily.

John got out as well, but only aiming his weapon at some of Emily's men.

"Nobody move!" Daube yelled. "We can do this nice and easy. Put your weapons down and let the man go." Rain dripped from the edge of Daube's cover into her eyes.

John stared at Emily. She looked the same, but seemed so different. She acted as if she had been committing crimes all her life. John tightened his grip on his gun.

Emily's men raised their guns towards Daube and John. Emily signaled her men. They lowered their guns.

John didn't know what to say to Emily.

"Drop your weapon as well." Daube spoke to Emily.

Emily laughed. John missed her laugh. Emily laughed the laugh she would laugh when John would tell a joke. John's concentration wavered.

"Drop your weapon!" Daube ordered.

Emily pulled the man closer to her and dug her gun into his temple. The man yelped in pain and tried to wriggle away from Emily's iron grip to no avail.

"No." Emily answered.

John's mind snapped into clarity. The first word Emily said after this whole ordeal started was 'no.' He tightened his grip.

"You have no idea what you're getting into, John." Emily spoke. She raised her gun and started firing. John ducked, the bullets striking the door window, eventually causing it to shatter. John started shooting through the window hole. He shot one of Emily's men down. The rest raised their automatic rifles and started shooting. John ducked again.

Emily yelled an order and they all moved backwards towards their getaway car. The barrage of bullets seemed never ending.

John advanced to an abandoned car for cover. He fired over the hood of the car, killing another two of Emily's men.

Two patrols of Amsterdam police arrived, providing assistance. The four officers stood in the open doors of their cars and fired at Emily and her men as well. Three more were dead. The rest concentrated their fire on the officers. Two of them were already down.

John reloaded his clip and continued to fire. He stepped out from behind the car and walked towards Emily and her men. The two other officers had shot and injured four more mercenaries. John picked off another three. There were five men left. Two stopped to reload their weapons while the other three fired at John, and the other two officers.

John ran and slid behind another car, but not before his leg was grazed by a bullet. He yelled out. He pressed his hand down on his thigh and took it away, revealing blood. He grunted and pulled himself further behind the car. The rain came down in sheets, diluting the run as it washed down the street.

Meanwhile, the two remaining officers had killed the men reloading their guns. But, one officer was gunned down and the other lay in the street, clutching his side, blood oozing on the pavement. John dragged himself to the back end of the car he was behind and fired at one of Emily's men, catching him by surprise. He dropped down, let out a few labour breaths as blood came out of his mouth. He stopped moments later.

John looked backwards. Daube was still crouched behind her door. John swore under his breath and pulled himself up, leaning heavily on the car. He started moving to the side as he fired at one of the two remaining men. He nicked the side of the man's neck, but that didn't stop him.

John was out of bullets. And clips. He tossed his gun aside and went back behind the car. He spotted one of the fallen mercenaries. John crawled over and quickly snatched the guy's rifle. John stood and started firing, keeping his finger down on the trigger. The mercenary quickly fell dead, riddled with bullets. The last of Emily's men ran up to John. His rifle was out. John started firing. He was conveniently out of bullets as well. John wound up a punch but the man was quicker.

He dodged and landed a quick punch to John's abdomen. John wheezed, the wind knocked out of him. He tried to raise his hands to defend himself, but the man was already landed two blows to John's face. John reached up and wrapped his hands around the man's neck, jamming his thumbs into the man's esophagus. The man choked for air. He slammed his forearm down on the John's wrists, causing John to let down. The man kicked John to the ground. He got down on John's level and shoved his knee into John's chest. The man punched John a few more times.

John couldn't move and he could barely breathe. He could barely react anymore. The man reached behind himself and unsheathed a knife.

John's glanced over at Emily, who tossed her hostage into the back of a black van. She shot her remaining men who lay injured in the streets. Then, she disappeared into the passenger seat and the van sped away. John turned his attention back to the situation at hand. The man raised his knife up, ready to stab it into John's heart.

A single shot rang out. The man on top of John stopped moving. He had a circular hole in the middle of his head. He fell backwards, dead.

John turned his head to see Daube a few feet away, her gun in her hand, shaking.

"It's about time the goddamn newbie shot her gun for the first time." John snapped.

Daube lowered her gun, holstering it. "At least I didn't run away." She answered.

John laid his head back down on the pavement. He reached down and held his thigh, trying to stop the blood. He closed his eyes as the rain pelted down on his face, breathing deeply.

An ambulance siren sounded in the distance.

* * *

I hoped you liked it! Review with your thoughts.

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	8. Pursuit in Berlin

Hello everyone! Sorry for the wait, but here is the next chapter.

We left off with John shot in the leg and Daube trying to prove herself as an officer.

Please enjoy!

* * *

Song: "Berlin" by New Politics

* * *

 **Day 20**

John woke up with blinding white lights in his face and the smell of disinfectant in his nose. He was in a hospital. He slowly sat up in his bed and gingerly touched the side if his leg. The graze wasn't deep and the doctors must have stitched it up already. John could get out of here relatively soon. He pressed a call button on the arm of his bed.

He turned to see Daube sitting in a chair across the room with her head in her hands, looking down at the floor.

"Don't look so down. At least you didn't let me get killed." John rubbed his eyes.

Daube lifted her head. "Four officers are dead. And all I managed to do was freeze up."

"You did kill one guy." John replied.

"And I let Emily Clark get away." Daube added.

"Don't get so hung up about it." John urged, crossing his arms.

Daube sighed and stood, holding a tablet. She walked over to John and handed him the tablet. "Here's the camera footage you were supposed to look at."

John pressed the play button and watched the footage.

"We couldn't get any audio." Daube added, sitting back in her chair.

John stared at the tablet. It showed Emily with Delano exiting the train station. The street cameras followed them into a car, and then followed the car to a house. Emily and Delano entered the house, stayed there for twenty minutes, and then left in the car. The cameras followed the car until it disappeared into an alley and continued driving.

"We also have the video from the shootout." Daube spoke up.

John swiped and hit another play button. He watched from a single camera that was on a building that was aimed towards Emily and her mercenaries and the backs of John and Daube. John watched the ensuing firefight. Bodies dropped to the ground, both good and bad. John watched as he was beat up. Daube finally moved from her hiding spot and shot the man on top of John. The video cuts over to the van Emily threw her hostage in. The van drove down busy streets of traffic rerouted around the shootout. A large truck pulled in front of a street camera, blocking the view of the van. When the truck pulls away, the van is nowhere to be seen.

"What about that man she kidnapped?" John asked.

"Swipe again." Daube answered.

John swiped. The page showed a file on a business executive. John started reading.

Jayden Snell, 42. CEO of European Synthetics and Mechanics Enterprises, which produces synthetic parts or parts of bots for most of Europe. He has no immediate family. He has an estimated net worth of $675 million. Emily Clark and her team entered his building and intercepted Snell on his way out to a lunch meeting. Current whereabout is unknown.

"So now what?" Daube asked.

John rubbed his temple, not giving an answer. He flipped back over to the first section of footage. He skipped ahead to when Emily was exiting the house with Delano. "Who lives at this house?"

"It's a shell. We believe the gang Yellow Fever is working out of there. They move parts on the Black Market." Daube answered.

John sighed, knowing that was currently a dead end. He looked back at Emily leaving the house. She had something in her hand. John zoomed in and enhanced the image as best as he could. It was something with a name written on top, where John could barely make out the letters. "Zak… Kaiser." John paused. "Where do I know that name from?"

Daube stood. "He works out of Berlin. He's known as the Empire Maker."

John sent himself all the files and then handed over the tablet. "That's right. He works out deals for people for whatever they want."

"For a monumental price." Daube added, taking the tablet. "If you want to own all the drugs in Switzerland, he can do that for you. If you want to own all the ports in Beijing, he can do that for you. If you want overthrow the government in Kenya, he can do that for you." She rambled.

John got an idea. "I need to get to Berlin."

"Wait, right now?" Daube asked.

"Yeah." John answered as a nurse finally came into the room. John tossed back his blankets. He spoke to the nurse. "I'd like to check out now."

"But sir," the nurse started to protest, speaking with a heavy Dutch accent, "I must advise you that you stay another twenty-four hours."

"Thanks for the advice, but I'm checking out now." John urged as he stood up. He tentatively let weight onto his left leg. It didn't hurt too badly, but as soon as the medications wore off, it be excruciating.

"Sir, your stitches need to be taken out in three days." The nurse urged.

"I'll figure that out in three days." John answered.

The nurse sighed. "I will get your paperwork." She left the room.

Daube pulled John's luggage from the corner of the room. "I brought this in for you."

"Thanks." John hobbled over and took his carry-on into his room's small bathroom. He changed into fresh clothes. He pulled the chain with the ring over his head. He tucked the chain under his shirt. He washed his hands and splashed water on his face. He took a deep breath and gathered himself. He exited his bathroom and slung his carry-on over his shoulder. He took his suitcase and left his hospital room. He walked to the nurses' station to sign himself out. Daube took bigger steps to catch up with John.

"I'm checking out." He told the nurse working at the station. "John Kennex."

The nurse nodded and passed a tablet over to John, which had an electronic document expressing how the hospital was no longer responsible for John's wellbeing. John signed the waiver and headed for the hospital's exit.

He stepped out into sunshine.

"Detective, wait!" Daube called out.

John paused.

Daube ran up to John, pulling out John's gun from her back holster. "You're going to need this."

"Thanks." John holstered his weapon once again. "Where's the train station?" He asked.

"Two blocks to the left, three blocks uptown." Daube answered.

"Thanks." John started to leave.

"Good luck." Daube called after him.

John looked back and nodded. "Chin up." He urged. "There's a Captain in you somewhere."

Daube smiled.

John turned and walked away.

John arrived in Berlin after booking his train ticket at the station. While on four and a half hour train ride, he made a call to the Berlin police. He convinced them to allow him to find Zak Kaiser using a limited amount of their police resources. John also placed a call to a hotel in Berlin, where he transferred the room Baudin booked for John in Amsterdam to a room in Berlin.

John exited the Berlin train station and took a taxi to the hotel, where he quickly stowed his luggage and returned to the awaiting taxi, which took him to the Berlin Police Station.

John met with the officer he spoke with on the phone.

"Officer Max Johannes." The officer shook hands with John. "Detective Kennex, I understand that you are pursuing an international criminal by the name of Emily Clark."

"That's right. I have reason to believe that she's using Zak Kaiser's services." John explained.

Officer Johannes gestured to an open chair by his desk in the station. John sat down. Johannes started talking. "We have some credible CI's here in Berlin, but so far, none have them have been talking about Kaiser doing anything with Clark. Do you know what she's trying to do with Kaiser?"

John shook his head. "So far, she's stolen a shipment of arms and munitions, bombed a hotel, kidnapped a CEO and shot up a city block." John sighed, rubbing his forehead.

"I'm assuming she's the one that grazed your leg." Johannes leaned back in his chair. Before John could reply, Johannes nodded. "Yes, I noticed your limp." Johannes leaned forward again, pulling up files on his computer. He swiveled the monitor around for John to see. There were two blurry pictures of a man in profile, with a hat in one photo and wearing sunglasses in the other. "These are the only authenticated pictures of Kaiser." Johannes explained. "He's careful to stay out of the public eye." Johannes tapped a few buttons and the screen changed to a list of locations. "These are the places Kaiser has headed his operations from. He never stays in the same place for more than six months." Johannes changed the screen again. This time is was a list of associates. "These are the confirmed people that Kaiser gave services to. Most of them have been killed or have died, some are incarcerated. But the three in red are the ones that are active."

"Maksim Kuznetsov. Márcia Bravo. Hubert Delano." John read the names in red. "Delano is the one Emily Clark came into the country with." John looked at Johannes.

"That's good to know." Johannes pulled him computer screen back to face him.

"Do you think that's why they're here?" John asked.

"It's possible." Johannes nodded.

"Do you have any idea where Clark, Delano, or Kaiser might be right now?"

Johannes paused and thought. "Kaiser has been spotted near a townhouse not far from here by one of our CI's. It could be Kaiser's new hideout."

"Can we go there now?" John urged.

"I don't see why not?" Johannes smiled as he stood, retrieving his weapon from his desk drawer. Johannes waved someone over. " _Nummer zehn!_ "

John turned to see a bot, a different type of MX, walk over to him and Johannes. It had the Berlin Police Force emblem on its uniform.

"Switch to English." Johannes ordered.

"Of course, Officer Johannes." The bot answered.

"Number Ten, this is Detective John Kennex from America. He's pursuing Emily Clark." Johannes introduced.

"You've got Ken dolls here, too?" John looked at Johannes in defeat.

Johannes laughed. "Let's go." He ordered.

The trio went outside to Johannes's unit.

"I'd like an apology." Ten spoke to John.

"What?" John was taken aback. "Why?"

"Your Ken doll comment was offensive." Ten explained.

"Um… sorry?" John scrunched his brow as he got into the passenger seat.

"Damn, Johannes. Banishing me to the backseat? That's cold." Ten said as he got into the back of the unit.

Johannes laughed again as he got into the driver's seat and started the engine.

"What kind of bot do you have?" John asked Johannes as they drove away from the police station. "It sure as hell isn't an MX. And it better not be a goddamn DRN." John huffed.

"New model. LPO. They're a combination of MX's and DRN's, in a way. They function at a much better capacity." Johannes explained. "Number Ten, here, is the tenth LPO we got at the Station."

"How do they rank with MX's and DRN's?" John asked.

"Above and beyond." Johannes answered. "Greater at human interaction, decision making, split-second choices, investigation, questioning. The entire works."

"Well thanks, partner." Ten spoke up from the back seat.

Johannes tipped his hat in respect. He pulled the unit over to the side of the road and parked. "We're here."

Johannes, John, and Ten got out of the car. John got to his feet with a grunt. He gently rubbed his thigh where he was shot.

"Are you alright?" Ten came up to John, genuinely concerned.

"I'm fine." John wrote off the pain and walked to catch up with Johannes. "Do we know what's in there?" He asked.

Johannes shook his head as he checked his weapon, holding it down in front of himself. "It's a three level apartment, but we haven't gotten any conclusive satellite or drone imaging."

John prepared his weapon as well. "What should we expect?"

"The worst." Johannes positioned himself close to the door.

John sighed, standing behind Johannes.

"Ten, get up here." Johannes ordered.

Ten huffed as he pulled out his gun.

"Emotions on 40%, please." Johannes exhaled.

"Emotions at 40%." Ten confirmed.

"Knock." Johannes gestured to the door.

"Knocking." Ten mocked. He knocked on the door. " _Polizei_!" He yelled.

The trio heard a clatter within.

"Breach!" Johannes ordered.

Ten kicked the door in and Johannes entered first. He quickly swept through the entrance and the small first floor John followed them in and moved to the stairs to go down. Johannes went upstairs. They found no one. John quickly pulled out his phone and took a picture.

"They escaped off the balcony!" Ten yelled.

Johannes and John rushed back to the first floor to see Ten jumping out of the window and giving chance to someone in the alleys behind the townhouses.

Ten chased after a tall man dressed in black for several blocks while Johannes and John went back to Johannes's unit to track down Ten and follow him. After jumping in the unit, Johannes sped down several blocks with sirens blaring and lights flashing. After fishtailing through a few corners, Johannes finally got down a long, straight stretch of road.

Ten's location stopped moving and Johannes slammed on the breaks. He pulled over and parked. Ten sat on a front stoop, twiddling his thumbs while his suspect was handcuffed to a street lamp.

Ten stood up, spreading out his arms, as Johannes and John walked up. "What took you so long?" Ten joked.

Johannes rolled his eyes as he detached the suspect from the street lamp, only to realize the man who was captured wasn't who they were after.

Johannes asked the man something in German and the man stuttered an answer.

Johannes looked up at John. "He's just a squatter. Looking for drug money."

John felt a stone of disappointment in the pit of his stomach.

"But he said whoever was living there left yesterday." Ten added.

"Does he know where they went?" John asked.

Johannes quickly asked the man John's question. The man quickly answered.

"Moscow." Johannes painfully translated.

John then proceeded to swear. Then he kicked a wall of a house. "Are you freaking kidding me?"

Johannes and Ten shot each other a glance.

* * *

Wow! How was that? LPO's look like the next big thing... Will that change things?

Please review, favorite, and follow!


	9. Heartbroken in Moscow

Hello everyone!

Yes, it has been a five month wait and I deeply apologize. I'm not going to give you excuses. Instead I'm giving you a long chapter.

Enjoy.

* * *

Song: "Lonely Boy" by The Black Keys

* * *

 **Day 27**

Johannes called John to his desk in the Berlin Police Station. "I've finally secured a travel visa for you to get to Moscow." Johannes passed over two traveler's cards. "They'll be good for 48 hours after you touch down and pass through customs."

John took the cards and put them in his wallet. "48 hours? That's it?"

Johannes nodded. "That's all I could manage. You know how it is over there."

John sighed, knowing Johannes was right.

"While you're there, ask around for Maksim Kuznetsov. He seems to be your best lead at the moment."

"Got it." John took note of the name. "When's my flight?" He asked.

"In an hour. Ten will take you to the airport along with your things." Johannes answered. "But you'll have to leave your gun here. They've gotten stricter over there."

John huffed but eventually gave his gun and holster to Johannes.

"Tell me where you're going next and I'll ship it to you." Johannes insisted.

"Really?"

"Of course."

"Thank you. For everything."

"It was a pleasure."

They shook hands and went on their way.

John touched down in Moscow and the clock started ticking. Of his 48 hours allowed to be there, he spent one hour going through customs, a half hour explaining the nature of his visit to the Security Police, and another half hour navigating heavy traffic from the airport to a questionable hotel.

He was down to 46 hours. John found his way down to the Moscow Police Station. He waited an hour to talk to the Police Chief. John was angered since there was nothing that seemed to be pressing the five-person police department. He finally got a meeting with the Police Chief, who was a burly, sour, alcoholic, sad sack of a woman.

"I'm Chief Ana Volkov. This woman you look for, a criminal… I cannot give you any help. We have priorities and she isn't one. I'm sorry." Chief Volkov turned to her computer. "Welcome to The United Federation of Russian States." She said dismissively.

John stood, abrupt and angry. "Sorry to have wasted your time." Before Chief Volkov could give a snide answer, John walked away and out of the police station.

John stepped onto the sidewalk. He was in the middle of Moscow, in the middle of The United Federation of Russian States, and he had no backup. He had to come up with a new plan, quick.

He trudged back to his hotel and locked the door to his room once he was inside. He took out his tablet and turned it on. He connected to the hotel's WiFi, which was spotty at best. He wandered around his tiny room, looking for the best signal.

John eventually found a place that had the greatest reception. He perched on the edge of the bathtub.

On his tablet, John found a way into the Moscow Police databases with a weak backdoor they didn't know they had. John had looked over the shoulder of Rudy and Dorian enough times to know what buttons to press and when.

He searched 'Maksim Kuznetsov' and got a mixed set of results. There were prison records from years ago, a large gap, and then incidents from the past year, starting from when The United Federation of Russian States was formed.

The Russian Civil War must account for the missing information.

John searched for addresses, associates, anything he could use as a lead. He discovered an old dealer Kuznetsov used before the Russian Civil War. The dealer was Olga Balaban, who lived only a mile away.

John closed his tablet and took all of his things and wrapped them in a towel. He put them in the tub and closed the shower curtain. As satisfied as he could be, he locked up his motel room and headed out on foot. He had 40 hours left.

Following a barely accurate map application on his phone, he walked to Olga Balaban's house. He stepped up to her door. John put his phone in pocket and popped the collar of his coat and ruffles his hair.

John knocked on the door and a woman immediately answered. She spoke quickly in Russian.

"I'm looking for Olga Balaban." John asked in English.

The woman slammed the door but John pushed it back open before it closed. "I'm looking for Olga Balaban so I can get to Maksim Kuznetsov." John explained.

The woman squinted at John. "Get inside." She ordered as she pulled John in by the collar.

John stood inside a quaint, plain living room. There was a couch, a chair, a coffee table, and a floor lamp. The wooden floors were bare. He looked at the grandfather clock in the corner.

"Ah, ah, here, come." Olga waved John on. Beyond the living room, every single nook and crevice had a weapon crammed into it. Guns, assault weapons, grenades, knives, and even swords and axes. On the kitchen table, there were boxes of files.

Olga bent over a box, her fingers moving along the folders to find the one she was looking for. "Maksim Kuznetsov." She passed the folder to John.

"Thank you." John flipped open the folder and started reading. He found a page of addresses and drop off locations. He took a picture of that page and handed back the folder. "Thank you very much."

Back at his motel room, he regrouped himself. He cross checked the addresses with where there corresponded in the city. Of the fifteen, five were destroyed in the Russian Civil War, six were converted into government occupied spaces, and two were bulldozed to make room for checkpoints. There were two locations left. He would have to choose one, at least for now.

John chose to get some sleep. He had 35 hours left. After he woke up from a nightmare-plagued night on a hard mattress, he had 26 hours left.

* * *

 **Day 28**

John decided on the building to scope out. It was directly across from a public bench. John set out, grabbing breakfast on his way.

He walked two miles to the bench and sat down, pulling out his tablet to skim over the words of yesterday's newspaper. John had 24 hours left. Just one day. He was halfway through.

He sat on the bench, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. No one entered or exited the building, and there was no movement inside. No cars stopped in front of it. The building remained untouched by everyone.

John looked around. He spotted three cameras pointed in the direction of the structure he was watching. Of course Kuznetsov wouldn't use this facility if it was being monitored.

John swore at himself and at the five wasted hours. There were 19 hours left now.

He got lunch on the way back to his room. 18 hours left. He rested for a few minutes and then headed to the second location. After the long trudge, he was a block away from the place in question with 17 hours left. John chose a cafe diagonal from the apartment Kuznetsov was known to hide in. John sat down at a table and ordered a coffee to blend in. From his vantage point, John could see the front door to the apartment, as well as a hidden side door masked by dying shrubbery.

He sat nearly motionless for two hours, save for the repeating action of lifting his cup of coffee to take a sip every three minutes. There were 15 hours left before John had to be out of Moscow.

And now he finally caught a glimpse of Emily.

A black unmarked sedan pulled up in front of Kuznetsov's apartment and Emily, Kuznetsov, and another man exited the car. The sedan sped away as the trio quickly ducked into the apartment.

John had to make a split second decision. He hadn't thought this far ahead.

He had no weapon, no backup, no partner. At this rate, he barely had a country.

John burst from his seat at the cafe and quickly marched up to the apartment. He flung the door open and expected to fight his way through a barricade of men.

Instead, he saw Emily, Kuznetsov, and the mystery man standing in a circle discussing something. They turned at John's entrance. The apartment itself was meagerly furnished.

John ran towards Emily. Kuznetsov pulled a gun from the back of his waistband. The mystery man held out a hand to stop the situation. John pushed Emily towards a wall, possibly to protect her from the oncoming situation.

Kuznetsov let out an angry cry and the mystery man jumped out of the way. Kuznetsov came barreling down on John. John rushed forward to meet Kuznetsov. The mystery man pulled Emily towards him.

John knocked Kuznetsov over but Kuznetsov was a much better fighter. Kuznetsov spun his gun around in his hand as he brought it down to John's left temple.

John's consciousness crumpled.

It was only a minute later that John floated to awareness. He could see a blurry ceiling and raised voices.

"We need to go, now!" Kuznetsov yelled to the mystery man in a heavy Russian accent.

John rolled to his stomach. His head throbbed. He could feel the stickiness of blood dripping down his face. He could see Kuznetsov wiping his gun with the fabric of his t-shirt.

"Alright, alright." The mystery man raised his hands. "My dear, are you alright?" He turned to Emily.

"Yes, I am fine, Otto." Emily answered.

"Good." The mystery man, Otto, smiled.

Then, the unimaginable happened.

Otto kissed Emily. And Emily genuinely smiled.

John's heart broke in two, and then into four, and then eight pieces. And then it shattered against the floor of his chest, shards piercing his lungs. His breath shortened and quickened. The air he was inhaling was poison. His throat shrunk and diaphragm heaved. His vision blurred at the edges. All important parts of his brain shut off.

Kuznetsov tossed his clean gun at John, close to his hands. Otto ushered Emily to the side door, with Kuznetsov close at their heels.

John stumbled to his feet, scooping up Kuznetsov's gun as he went. He rushed to the open side door but the trio was already gone. He quickly turned around and headed to the front door to try and cut them off.

He was greeted by ten guns in his face and an angrier looking Chief Volkov. John was crowded back into the apartment with unknown Russian words crowding his ears.

John raised his arms up.

Chief Volkov yelled some commands to her officers and John was tackled to the ground. The gun was snatched from his fingers and his arms were wrenched behind his back. A knee or two found their way into John's back and a foot or three stamped down on John's legs.

"You're under arrest." Chief Volkov spat out. "How dare you." She hissed.

From his vantage point, John could see every inch of dirt on the floor. He could also see a forgotten phone under the couch he was in front of. On the dimming screen, John could see plane ticket confirmations for a flight from Moscow to Rio, Brazil.

Chief Volkov called out an order and John was hauled away. He was tossed in the back of a police cruiser. He was driven to the police station and shoved into a holding cell.

"Please! Call my superior!" John called out to Chief Volkov.

She didn't answer. She sat at her desk and picked up her phone and started to dial.

John slammed a fist against the concrete wall of his cell. He sat down on the cold bench and waited for a miracle, for six hours. He had just over eight hours left on his ticking clock.

Chief Volkov kicked the metal door to John's cell. "I talked to your superior. Nice lady. Shame she has you on her force. Quite the mouth. She helped you avoid an international catastrophe. She's escorting you back to America. Her flight lands in eight hours." Chief Volkov walked back to her desk. "Get comfortable. This'll be the last time you're ever allowed in the United Federation of Russian States." She added.

John sighed and put his head in his hands.

* * *

With twenty minutes left on traveler's card, John stood up at the sound of station door opening. Captain Maldonado marched in with Dorian at her heels.

"Chief Volkov, I promise this will never happen again and Detective Kennex will be reprimanded appropriately." Maldonado said to Chief Volkov unlocked John's cell.

"I would hope so." Chief Volkov said coldly. She brought forth a bag of John's possessions and tossed them at John. He caught it at the last second.

John opened his mouth to thank Maldonado, but she raised a hand to shut him up.

Maldonado, John, and Dorian immediately went to the airport. The car ride there was not a pleasant one. Maldonado put the pedal to medal to get to the airport in time, a searing look on her face as she stared at the road. Dorian sat in the back seat, boring holes into the back of John's head.

"Well, I guess I'll be the first to talk." John started.

"Don't bother." Maldonado snapped. "You go off the wall and jump around the globe for an entire month, trying to track down your girlfriend, Emily Clark, who turned out to be one of the bad guys. You used international police forces for your own gain on an unsanctioned global manhunt." She angrily raised her voice. Maldonado stopped to take a breath. "You will be suspended while in front of a grand jury facing indictment." She finished.

"Indictment?" John questioned, appalled.

Maldonado didn't grace his question with an answer.

After several awkward silent minutes, they arrived at the airport. Maldonado secured the tickets for the three of them to get back to America.

"Do we have time for a bathroom break?" John asked Maldonado.

She gave a hard stare. "Dorian, go with him."

Dorian nodded and the two walked to the men's room in the airport terminal. It was devoid of people. John left his suitcase and carryon by the door. He ducked into the first stall. He locked the stall door behind him.

He had to devise him plan quickly.

 _Dodge Dorian. Rush past Maldonado with her back turned. Get a ticket to Rio at the ticket booth. Board airplane. Takeoff._

Simple.

John flushed the toilet and exited his stall. He stepped up to the sink and washed his hands.

"John." Dorian finally spoke.

"What." John answered.

"I warned you about taking this too far." Dorian scolded.

"What, you told me so? Yeah, whatever." John answered.

"John, I mean you could have gone to Maldonado and gotten your investigation sanctioned."

"Going through all the international bureaucratic red tape could have taken months or years. I didn't have that kind of time." John dried off his hands.

"When we get back, we can work this all out. Trust me." Dorian pleaded.

John went to his luggage. He bent down and picked up his carry-on and put on hand on his suitcase's handle. "I'm not going back." John stated.

Dorian saw the glinting ring on the chain around John's neck. John immediately tucked the ring away under his shirt.

John pushed the door to the bathroom open and looked for Maldonado. She was intently staring at a screen that updated the incoming plane's arrival time. John looked back at Dorian for a second.

John walked away, towards the ticket booth. He purchased a one-way ticket to Rio, Brazil. The flight was boarding in three minutes. He quickly walked to his new gate and lined up among a string of travelers. He was able to duck into the plane without Maldonado coming for him.

He settled on a seat next to a middle aged man who was already asleep. John stowed his luggage and sat down and buckled his seatbelt. He kept his eyes on the plane door.

He watched the flight attendant move to close it.

"Hold on!" Another flight attendant called out after hanging up the plane's phone. "We have a straggler."

John heart thumped out of his chest. _Please don't let it be Maldonado._

A businessman in a sharp suit jogged onto the plane with a leather briefcase in hand. He sat down in the first available seat, in the second row of the plane.

The flight attendant sealed the door to the airplane and the craft was cleared for departure.

John quickly pulled out his phone and booked a room at a cheap motel in Rio and sent a message to Johannes to ship his weapon to the motel. He then shut off his phone and tried to enjoy his turbulent nine hour flight.

John couldn't think straight. He didn't want to think at all. All he could do was fiddled with the ring on the chain around his neck. He gripped it tight.

The diamond of the ring dug into the flesh of John's palm. A drop of blood trickled down John's wrist when the plane landed.

* * *

Wow! And there we have it! I hope you enjoyed this twist of character in both John and Emily.

Please favorite, follow, and especially review! Thank you so much for your support!

Next chapter will be soon? No promises, but you guys have to hold me accountable.


	10. Drowning in Rio

Hello everyone! Here's the next (long) chapter for you. I wrote quickly to stay in the rhythm of things so I wouldn't disappear again.

Please enjoy!

* * *

Song: "Rio" by Duran Duran

* * *

 **Day 29**

John exited the airplane after landing in Rio, Brazil. He took his baggage and waited in a winding line until he cleared customs. He stepped outside, ready to hail a taxi. He was greeted by a wall of hot air. He waved a hand and a taxi pulled forward. John got inside and told the driver the address of the motel. He rode in silence and paid the taxi driver upon arrival.

John checked into the motel and got his key from the front desk. He swiped into his small room with a twin sized bed. Everything was of nice quality but it all had a sticky layer of moisture from the humidity.

John set his things down and pulled out his tablet and turned it on. He plopped down on the bed, which was surprisingly and pleasantly comfortable. He went to his notes. He fixed what he already had in the file.

-*Kidnapping/disappearance was planned

-*Emily has a Shipper (who?), went through BackDoor

-*What is Emily shipping?

-*Why is Emily in Paris? - She blew up a Hotel, but why? - A distraction?

-*Emily sought out Hubert Delano, but why? - He is helping her with entire scheme

-*What is Emily going to do in Amsterdam? - She kidnapped Jayden Snell

-*What is Emily's endgame?

John added more notes.

-Emily went to Berlin to met with Zak Kaiser

-*What is Emily doing with Zak Kaiser? (Is he making her an empire?)

-Emily went to Moscow

-Emily met with Maksim Kuznetsov, a hitman

-*What is Emily planning with Kuznetsov?

-*Who is Otto?

John curled a hand into a fist. He took a deep breath and exhaled.

-**Why does Emily love Otto?

John paused then continued again.

-Emily went to Rio to find Márcia Bravo

-*What does Bravo specialize in?

John looked down at his palm. There was already a scab from where the diamond ring cut into the skin. He picked it off.

John stowed all of his belongings in the bathroom and took his cellphone and wallet with him. He hailed another taxi and rode to the Police Station ten minutes away.

He entered and looked for a commanding face. He saw one behind a desk in the far corner. He walked over and cleared his throat.

"Yes?" A man looked up at him, disinterested.

"I'm Detective John Kennex from America." John held out a hand.

"Agent Lucas Castillo." The man answered, shaking John's hand. Agent Castillo pointed to a free chair where John could sit down. "What can I do for you." He plainly asked.

"I'm tracking a woman, Emily Clark, who's been doing business with the worst of the worst in the world and I've followed her here, believing she will try to contact Márcia Bravo. So far she's dealt with Hubert Delano, Zak Kaiser, and Maksim Kuznetsov." John explained.

"And you want me to what." Castillo asked, bored.

"I was hoping you could lend me some resources to help me search for Clark or Bravo." John asked.

"Can I see a sanctioned order from your superior, task agency, and government." Castillo ordered.

John tried to play it off. "Did the message not go through yet? I told my boss to get better servers back there."

Castillo exhaled loudly. "Until that order comes in, I am unable to help you."

John stood up. "Sorry to have wasted your time." He walked away without letting Castillo reply.

John heard a phone ring and some quick, sharp words in a language he didn't understand.

"Hey you! Kennex!" Castillo called out. He quickly grabbed his weapon and badge and jogged to meet up with John. "There was a shooting at Copacabana Beach. Witnesses say it was a Russian man. It could be Kuznetsov." He explained as they headed out of the station. "Come with me to the beach. I could use your eyes."

John nodded.

Both got into Castillo's unit and sped down to the beach. Units were already there establishing a perimeter and keeping spectators away from the scene. Castillo flashed his badge and got John through as well.

The salty air surrounded John as the wind coming off the ocean waves floated in his direction.

The scene was gruesome to say the least. Seven bodies lay strewn about on the beach. Some were face up, some were face down in the sand. Some were shot as they laid on towels, some were shot while standing or moving. Some were men, some were women. Some were younger, some were older. None of them stood a chance.

"Witnesses describe Kuznetsov coming off a motor boat at the shore, shooting down these people and then fleeing back on the boat. People also say another man operated a boat while a woman stood by." Castillo reported.

"Where could the boat have gone?" John asked.

"People said they went southwest to Ipanema." Castillo answered.

"What about Bravo?" John asked.

"She's known to work out of Ilha das Cobras northeast of here." Castillo replied.

John sighed. _Opposite directions. Now what?_

"Can you take me to Ipanema?" He asked.

"Sure. Give me time here and then I will take you." Castillo offered.

John sat on the sidewalk just before the beach, his shoes in the sand. Grains embedded themselves into his shoes and socks. Castillo finally walked over to John after an hour.

"Let's go." Castillo ordered.

They arrived at Ipanema. John bee-lined for the docked boats. Out of the hundreds that were there, half were motor boats.

"What color boat was it?" John asked Castillo, who was quick at his heels.

"Either white or red." Castillo answered.

Of the motor boats a majority were white or red.

"Anything else to identify it?" John asked.

"Not really… Someone mentioned it had a cracked windshield." Castillo looked back through his notes.

John held a hand to his eyes to block the midday sun. He gazed at the white or red motorboats until he found the ones with cracked windshields. "I found three." John told Castillo.

"Let's get looking." Castillo answered.

"No warrant?" John was taken aback.

"Nah." Castillo nonchalantly responded.

John held his tongue and went to the first boat. He quickly stepped from the dock into the boat. It rocked with John's heavy movements but after he stopped moving, the boat stopped rocking. John's shoes squeaked on the deck of the boat without him moving. There was streaks of blood running down the length of the small deck. The smell finally hit John's nose. He held up a hand to his nose and mouth to block the smell.

Castillo laughed. "I see you found a fishing boat."

John rolled his eyes as he now could see buckets of chum, fishing lines, and nets. He got out of the boat and continued on to the next one with a cracked windshield.

John got into that boat with more grace than the first one. He didn't see much evidence first but then stumbled upon a mound of empty beer cans and cigarette butts. The console around the steering wheel had two photo screens mounted to it, one showing a boyfriend and girlfriend and one showing them later on with two kids.

John got out of that boat and pleaded that the last one was the one he was looking for. He got down into the boat, already gaining his wobbly sea legs even with the boat docked. Visually, there weren't many clues. Sand gathered in piles and within one, there was a bootprint. John quickly took a picture of it with his phone. Looking further, he spotted the shiny metal of the steering wheel. He stepped over to see if there were any fingerprints. There weren't. John tried to check every inch of the boat but found nothing. He was about to step out when he heard a tiny clink of metal against metal.

John looked down to see a bullet from a semi-automatic rifle.

"Do you have an evidence bag?" John asked Castillo.

Castillo checked his many coat pockets and pulled out an evidence bag. He passed it over to John. John turned the bag inside out and picked up the bullet, then turned the bag right side in. The bullet dropped to the bottom of the bag without John ever directly touching, as to not put his fingerprints on it. He sealed the bag and put it in his pocket.

"Can we go to Ilha das Cobras?" John asked.

"Sure." Castillo answered.

The duo soon arrived a Ilha das Cobras, a massive shipping port with barges docked and shipping containers being loaded and unloaded.

"There has to be thousands of containers here." John remarked.

"The control booth is this way." Castillo led John to a tower that stood five stories tall. They climbed the winding steps to get to the control booth at the top. They entered the small room, which was filled with computers, camera, and manifests of all the containers on site.

"Sir," Castillo spoke to the head controller, the only person in the booth, "we need to access all your information."

"On what authority?" The controller asked.

"Mine." Castillo pulled a chair up for himself and started tapping keys on the computer. Screens of information scrolled by. Then Castillo got a call. He answered with a rapid fire angry tone.

"I have to go to another scene. Domestic disturbance at a place I've been before." He explained. "Where are you staying by the way?"

John butchered the name of the motel he was staying at.

"Ah, yeah. A fifteen minute walk from here." Castillo nodded. "Do you mind walking? You can stay here and read the manifests."

John agreed. "Thanks for your help today."

Castillo tipped his head and left the booth.

John was left to look at the manifests with the scowling controller hovering near by. John read through the manifests for an hour until his eyes hurt. He decided to send the rest of the manifests from the past month to his tablet so he could read them later. He left the booth and meandered back to his motel room.

The manifests seemed endless. John didn't even know what he was looking for.

He still had the bullet in the evidence bag in his pocket. He took it out. He had no way to analyze it. After a quick cab ride back to the Police Station, John name-dropped Castillo to one of the forensic analysts, who then had to do what John said. There were fingerprints on the bullet, but they matched to no database anywhere, not even motor registries.

John slinked out of the Police Station, unsure of what to do next. He stopped for dinner on the way back to his motel room. John passed by the front desk of the motel. The concierge waved him over.

"Package." The concierge said while pushing a box forward on the front desk. It was stamped from Berlin. It was John's gun that Johannes shipped over to him.

"Thanks." John took the box and returned to his room.

He set the box down and retrieved his gun. He slipped the clip into it and put the gun into its holster. He clipped the holster to his belt. John finally felt balanced again.

Well, almost.

Later that night, John laid awake on his bed.

He was stuck between a rock and a harder rock. There was little evidence here and little connection to Márcia Bravo.

John tried to sleep. Nightmares greeted him wholeheartedly.

* * *

 **Day 36**

John had bummed around Rio, not enjoying himself, as Emily continued to slip through his fingers. He hadn't had a solid lead in seven days and was starting to lose hope. His journey couldn't end here. He pushed himself to keep searching.

It was nighttime and the city was abuzz with activity. He sat sipping a beer at a cafe closing for the night. He stared out at the semi private alcove in front of him. No one seemed to come here. It was be the perfect secluded spot for privacy.

The waves rolled onto shore. The salty air whisked around. The sand shifted to and fro. The stars twinkled in the night sky.

John sighed and took a sip of his beer.

He saw two people walking, a man and a woman, walking hand in hand down the beach. The waves licked at their feet. They walked towards another woman approaching them. Behind the woman, man quietly stepped forward and crossed his arms.

The couple stopped moving.

The woman said something.

The couple shook their heads in protest.

The man stepped up closer to the woman, nearly touching her back.

The woman sputtered something.

The couple nodded.

The man backed away.

The woman quickly left the scene.

The couple said an order to the man.

The man left the beach.

The couple smiled at each other.

The man kissed the woman and took her into his arms.

They swayed together, dancing to an invisible song.

The man smiled, turning and twisting the woman to her delight.

The woman laughed.

John sprung from his seat, his gun already in hand.

That laughed echoed in his ears.

Fury, rage, irateness. Feeling flooded John's mind. Fear, panic, confusion. John couldn't focus.

John could see the face of the woman over the man's shoulder.

Emily.

The silhouette of the man matched that of the fuzzy memory of Otto.

John lunged for the man.

Otto could see John coming in Emily's reaction. Otto pushed Emily clear of the oncoming fight. Otto turned and wrapped his arm backwards around John's neck and pushed him downwards and forwards. John smacked down into a mouthful of sand and saltwater. Otto waded through the water to get to John. He dragged John forward by his coat collar to get him further in the water. John swept his arm and pushed Otto's legs out from underneath him. Otto splashed down in the water next to John. John twisted to aim his gun. Otto shoved John's arm aside and climbed onto John. The ocean waves crashed harder now. Otto straddled John's back, his knees digging into John's shoulder blades. Otto put one hand on John's neck and one on his head and pushed John down under the waves. John tried to push back, his neck already aching.

John gasped for breath. He half inhaled air, half salty seawater. He kept choking as Otto tried to drown him. John stopped writhing and concentrated. He wrenched his arm backwards and blindly fired.

John heard a cry from Otto, who immediately fell off of John. He clutched his upper left arm, blood coming from the bullet graze. John coughed, trying to get air back into his lungs.

Emily came forward and pulled Otto to his feet and out of the shallow water. Emily and Otto stumbled off into the night.

John pushed himself up to his elbows, above the height of the incoming waves. His diaphragm heaved, trying to dispel the water from his lungs. He felt sick. But he needed to follow Emily and Otto. John dragged himself to his feet and splashed out of the water. He trekked across the sand, the tiny grains sticking to him everywhere he was wet.

John caught glimpses of Emily and Otto disappearing around street corners and buildings. John dutifully followed. He followed the drops of blood when he fell too far behind. John fell to his knees and gasped for breath. Then he stopped altogether.

He heard two distinct voices just around the corner.

"You need to go to a doctor, Otto." Emily pleaded.

"No, I will be fine." Otto insisted through gritted teeth.

"Will you last until we get to London?" Emily asked.

"Yes, yes." Otto answered.

"What about Márcia Bravo?" Emily asked.

"She'll pull through with the shipments." Otto replied. "I'll send Kuznetsov to make sure."

"What about John Kennex?" Emily asked.

"Don't worry about that sack of crap." Otto huffed. "He won't be able to stop us."

"Alright, then." Emily answered. "Let's get to London, okay?"

"Yes, of course." Otto answered.

They walked away.

John felt light-headed and nauseous.

The end of the night was a blur. He hailed a cab. Stumbled into his motel room. Vomited in the toilet. Fell asleep on top of the bed.

* * *

And there you have it!

Please favorite, follow, and review! I will try to update reasonably soon!


	11. Searching in London

Hello, everyone! Sorry for the long wait! Here's the next chapter.

Enjoy!

* * *

Song: "London Calling" by The Clash

* * *

 **Day 53**

It had been two and a half weeks since John arrived in London. He diligently waited for any indication of Emily and Otto's presences anywhere in the city. He was starting to lose hope that he was ever going to catch them.

Of all the major criminals based in London, there were three of interest to John. Rebecca Taylor specialized in embezzling and money laundering. Tyler Dawson specialized in in human trafficking and border crossings. Duncan Owen specialized in stealing and weaponizing computers and electronics.

But John didn't have enough information to determine who Emily and Otto were going to. All he could do was sit and wait.

John felt like he had nearly eaten through every joint that sold fish and chips. He had gone through countless pints of beer.

He even found himself trying to enjoy the London Eye one night. Its slow rotation irked John and he itched to get off the ride, though the view of London nightlife was calming. He walked off the pod onto the landing platform after the wheel completed a rotation. He walked south, past the concessions stand, where there were monitors showing pictures of the riders as they posed at the right moment.

John caught a glimpse of someone familiar. He saw Emily in one of the pictures from the pod that was after his. She stood next to Otto, the man that had tried to drown John back in Rio.

John quickly turned around, scanning the crowd leaving the London Eye.

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

Blonde hair. Emily.

A flash of a face in profile. Otto.

John sprinted forward. He pushed past people and weaved through the ground while keeping an eye on Emily and Otto. He didn't want to lose them again. John surged forward and caught Otto by the arm. He could feel a layer of gauze covering the bullet graze on his upper arm. John pulled Otto around to face him.

John was met with a smug smile and the muzzle of a gun digging into his stomach.

"Easy there, Johnnyboy." Otto taunted.

John stared down his foe, not answering him.

"I suggest you take a step back before you're holding your guts in your hands." Otto threatened.

John let go of Otto's arm. He looked to Emily. Sympathy flashed over her eyes before settling back on disgust and indifference. She readjusted the strap of the purse hanging over her shoulder. John caught a glimpse of wires and computer chips in Emily's half-zipped purse.

John stepped back and Otto stowed his gun back away. Otto took Emily by the hand and led her away. They soon disappeared into the thickening crowd.

John stood at the base of the London Eye, wishing he could see what Emily's endgame was.

* * *

After seeing the computer components in Emily's purse, John knew he had to confront Duncan Owen. John returned to his motel to retrieve his sidearm, which he shoved into the back waistband of his pants and fixed his jacket so it wasn't noticeable.

Before he left his motel room, he glanced at his suitcase. Wherever Emily went, John would have to follow. He'd undoubtedly have to fly, but he was confident that his passport would be flagged and unusable. So John himself would need the help of a criminal, one like Tyler Dawson to get him a fake passport.

The only problem, at the moment, was that John had no means to find the two people he needed to find. He couldn't go to the police and flash his detective badge. John figured he'd go to the most knowledgeable person around.

A bartender.

John grabbed a wad of bills he traded at a currency exchanger and shoved it deep into his pocket. He left his motel room and locked the door. He walked through London until he found a grimy enough bar to slip into. It was late at night, and the bar had customers, though not too many.

John sat down at the end of the bar, three seats away from the next person. The bartender came over to get John a drink.

"What'll it be." He plainly asked.

"Bourbon." John answered.

The bartender took out a glass and retrieved a bottle of bourbon. He poured John a glass and slid it over to him. John downed the glass in one gulp. He set his glass down and the bartender easily refilled it. John sipped half of his glass.

"I need some information." John lowered his voice.

"Is that so." The bartender put away the bottle of bourbon.

John fished a twenty out of his pocket and set it down on the bartop.

"What do you want to know." The bartender took the bill and put it in his own pocket.

"Where can I find Duncan Owen?" John asked.

"243 Albany Street." The bartender replied.

"And Tyler Dawson?" John asked.

"Not sure." The bartender had the palm of his hand facing up.

John put another twenty and set it in the bartender's hand.

"101 Jacob Row." The bartender replied.

"Thanks." John finished off his drink and stood up. He put another twenty down to pay for his drink and walked away, out of the bar.

After checking his phone, 101 Jacob Row was closer to his current location. John pulled his jacket closer and started walking. After a quick fifteen minutes, he arrived at a black door to a skinny building wedged between two others.

He knocked twice. After a moment, he heard footsteps approach the door.

"Who is it? Whaddaya want?" The man behind the door asked.

"I'm looking for Tyler Dawson. I need to get somewhere." John answered.

John heard several latches unlock and then the door opened. John was pulled inside and heard the door shut behind him. John assumed Dawson flipped a light switch as the lights flickered on.

"What do you need?" Dawson asked. "Travel cards? Visas? A boat?"

"Passport." John answered.

Dawson led John through the small foyer into the main space of the building. There were printers and scanners galore, as well as stacks of fake everythings ready to be distributed.

"Do you have a real one already?" He asked.

"Yes." John said.

"Flagged?" Dawson went to a computer.

"I'm assuming." John replied.

"Alright." Dawson picked up a black shirt as tossed it to John. "Put this on."

John took off his jacket and placed it down on a chair. He put the black shirt on over his own and then fixed his hair.

"Stand there." Dawson pointed to a portion of a wall that had a white backdrop hanging down over it. Dawson dragged over a camera on a tripod.

John moved in front of the backdrop and stood up straight.

Dawson looked through the viewfinder of the camera, but then stepped back. He rummaged around his messy workspace and pulled out a pair of glasses. He tossed them to John, who put them on. Dawson went to the camera once more and took the picture. It uploaded to his computer.

Dawson pulled the camera away and sat down at his computer, working a program to make a believable fake passport.

John took the shirt and glasses off and put them on Dawson's table. He put his jacket on and quickly repositioned his gun in his waistband.

"Okay. What's your father's middle name?" Dawson asked.

"James." John answered.

"And your grandmother's maiden name?" Dawson asked.

"Cooper." John answered.

Dawson typed the names in and positioned John's photograph. "It'll be done in two minutes."

John pulled out his phone and checked how far he was from Duncan Owen's hideout. It seemed to be only a twenty minute walk.

After a quiet minute, Dawson's passport printer spit out a near-perfect fake passport for John. Dawson retrieved it from the printer and handed it over to John. "350." Dawson ordered.

John pocketed the thin, reinforced glass passport and sighed. He pulled 350 from his pocket and handed it over.

Dawson showed John to the door and then locked him out as soon as he left.

John started walking to 243 Albany Street in search of Duncan Owen. He pulled his jacket closer to him as he trudged through the dark streets of London. John eventually got to Albany Street and found the door marked with 243. He knocked.

The door creaked open. John peered into the empty hallway in front of him. He pulled his gun out and pointed it down in front of him. He started down the hallway. A few bare bulbs flickered overhead. His footsteps echoed off the wooden floor.

John reached the end of the hallway. There was an open door at revealed a set of stairs that led down. He was then blinded by a bright light as he was scanned by some device in the door frame. Beams of light focused on his fingertips and his irises. Then the lights faded away.

John blinked twice and stared down at the staircase. He gripped his gun tighter as he went down the staircase. At the bottom of the stairs, he pushed open another creaky door. He was greeted by half a dozen automatic rifles in his face.

The basement of the house was filled with computers and servers with wires roped around the ceilings. There were piles of scraps and circuit boards. There were computer-integrated weapons everywhere.

John heard someone clapping.

"Ya got balls, I'll give ya that, mate." A man said, deep in the shadows.

John surrendered his gun to the nearest guard.

The man stepped forward, moving a toothpick around his mouth. "Officer John Kennex, from the blessed United States of goddamn America. Wanted alive by the American government for disobeying, deserting, and a bunch of criminal charges, too."

Wanted? Alive? John was being hunted?

Did that scanner find out who he was? Who was the man with the toothpick?

Toothpick Man smiled as he stepped up to John. "I know all about you, John." He smiled, his toothpick in the corner of his mouth. "The only thing I don't know is why you're here."

John took a deep, calming breath. "Otto and Emily Clark."

Toothpick Man raised an eyebrow. "And they are?" He faked.

John clenched a fist. "I know who you are, Duncan Owen. Just tell me what I want to know and I'll leave."

Toothpick Man, Duncan Owen, crossed his arms. "Why do you care about them?"

"Otto's the man who stole Emily from me." John said through a tight jaw.

Owen put a hand on John's shoulder and shook it. "You see what blind love drives you to do? Crazy things, mate. Crazy things."

John ripped the toothpick out of Owen's mouth and held it to Owen's jugular vein. Then there was the sound of six guns clicking to attention. Owen lifted a hand and the guns fell back down.

"What did they want?" John asked, pressing the toothpick deeper.

"They came in earlier today and bought droid parts from me. And, and they paid me to overhaul the software of two dozen police droids and ship the droids to them." Owen answered, trying to lean away from the toothpick.

"Ship them where?" John asked.

"Cairo." Owen winced.

John looked around the room. He spotted a hi-tech gun at a desk closest to him. He picked it up and help it up for Owen to see. "What does this do?"

"Laser-guided taser that can reach five targets at once." Owen answered.

"Does it work?" John asked.

"Yes." Owen answered.

John moved his arm backwards and blindly fired. But the taser found five targets, who fell to the ground, twitching from the electrical current. The last man standing started to charge at John, but John slammed the taser gun down on the man's head. He fell to the floor, unconscious.

John looked back at Owen. "Anything else here works?"

Owen backed up a couple steps and turned, John holding the toothpick the entire time in its same place. Owen reached down and picked up several palm-sized discs and handed them to John. John took them in his free hand.

"The bottom disc sends interference when activated. The holder is hidden from cameras, drones, and droids. The next one runs surveillance, enough to give to real time updates from a busy street corner or a crowded room. On top of that is a downloader. Stick on the back of a droid and you'll download all the information off it without it even knowing. The top one turns any phone or computer into a secure source. None of them are traceable." Owen explained.

John nodded and pocketed them all. "Good to know."

"But they come at a price." Owen added.

"How about I don't kill you." John threatened.

"Fair." Owen said.

John stepped back from Owen and flicked away his toothpick. Owen rubbed his neck. John rummaged around the unconscious bodies for his gun. He eventually finds it and put it down the back of his pants.

"Ya gonna call the coppers on me, mate?" Owen asked, already chewing on a new toothpick.

"Why would I? I'm wanted by the police." John answered.

Owen nodded, thinking. "How ya gettin' to Cairo?"

"I got a fake passport." John said.

"Ah, ya went to Dawson." Owen nodded again.

"Yeah." John said.

Owen went and opened a backdoor for John. "Good luck to ya, mate."

"Thanks." John said, walking out of the door and into a dark alley.

* * *

John eventually got back to his motel room and sank down onto his bed. He took the discs out of his pocket. He considered using the secure disc to call someone, anyone.

Instead, he used his tablet to book a flight to Cairo.

He was getting closer to them, he knew it. But he didn't know how far away they were to begin with.

He looked back down at the secure disc. He put it on the receiver of his motel room phone. He picked up the slim phone and dialed a number he knew forwards and backwards. Emily's.

He got the disconnect dial tone. He hung and then dialed another number.

"This is DRN 0167." Dorian said over the phone.

John froze. No words could form.

"Hello?" Dorian asked.

John quickly slammed the phone down on the receiver and pulled the secure disc off it. He took a deep breath.

John took out his tablet and booked a flight to Cairo under the name of James Cooper.

If John was a wanted man, he was going to have to act like one.

* * *

Thanks for reading! I hope to update soon!

Please review, favorite, and follow!


	12. Dreaming Outside Cairo

**Hello everyone!**

 **I'm sorry for the long delay! I took a while trying to make this chapter fit a mood I was going for. So seclude yourself in a dark corner and strap in for a wild and eerie ride. I think it will be best to read this in one go if possible.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

Song: "Run From Me" by Timber Timbre

* * *

 **Day 68**

John, or rather James Cooper, had touched down in Cairo, unstopped by officials. John sat in his grungy motel room for days, weeks even, waiting for Otto and Emily to show their faces.

John never got a hint of them. He meandered in storefronts for hours, sat at cafes for days, stayed awake watching checkpoints at night, and even stared down from rooftops in the blazing sun.

A helpless John sought out aid.

John met a local man with valuable connections at an outdoor market and he passed along some files of information. As the local disappeared into the crowd, John quickly scanned the files.

Corrupt government officials. A safe house. Troop locations. Account numbers. The address of an underground software engineer.

A software engineer that Otto and Emily will need for their army of androids.

The engineer was in Tripoli. It was about a day's drive away.

John went back to the safe house's location. It was about halfway between Cairo and Tripoli, half a mile off an unnamed road in the middle of the desert.

John left the outdoor market, after grabbing things to eat for the next few days, and went back to his motel room. He gathered all of his things: his clothes, his tablet, his gun, and the four discs he took from Duncan Owen. He loaded his stuff into a Jeep he rented.

He started driving out of Cairo.

* * *

John drove through the desert sand. The ever-changing landscape looked the same for hours.

Eventually, John spotted a blur on the horizon. A small house came into view. John pulled up and parked in front of the safe house. After clearing through the house with his gun at the ready, John retrieved his bags and set them down just inside the door.

Inside was simple living. There was a tiny kitchenette, a table and two chairs, a bed and a dresser, and a small bathroom. There was a nondescript splotch of blood in one corner.

But most of all, there was sand everywhere. It was piled all across the floor, like a flood had rolled through.

John brushed off the sand from most of the surfaces in the safe house and ate something for dinner while going over his ever-growing file of notes.

After shaking the sand off the bedspread, John went to bed.

The night and the sand were in control now.

* * *

John opened his eyes when he heard a noise. Not a noise, a voice.

A woman's voice.

John sat up in bed and ripped away the covers. He got out of bed, his feet touching down on grainy sand. John took his gun from under his pillow and went through the safe house.

No one.

John went outside. He checked around the back of the house. He checked his Jeep to see if anyone was hiding within. He checked around the front of the house.

John stopped while looking out into the distance at the crest of sand dune.

He saw a woman's figure silhouetted by the light of the moon and stars of the night sky. The woman's white dress fluttered in breeze, sand stirring around her bare feet. She was ethereal, she was angelic. She was untouchable, she was just within his grasp. She was beautiful, she was heartbreaking. She was his love, she was his pain.

She was his everything.

"Emily." John said hoarsely. His gun dropped into the sand, just at the threshold.

Emily turned to face him and smiled. She stretched her hand out for John to take. He didn't move. She stepped closer and closer.

John stepped back, suddenly not wanting to confront what - who - he had been chasing for over two months.

Emily kept walking forward, the moonlight spreading across her face. John retreated back into the safe house, his heart nearly pounding out of his chest. Emily's approach never wavered and John was driven to the back of the house, into the bedroom. John bumped against the foot of the bed and looked for any other place to go to avoid Emily. He spied the bathroom, but it was too late.

Emily stood in front of John, their noses only inches apart.

John breathed heavily, nervous.

Emily reached out and lifted up the ring on the chain around John's neck. She tugged the ring off the chain, snapping the chain in half. The chain slithered to the ground. She watched the diamond glitter in the moonlight. She dropped the ring and put her hands on John's cheeks.

John inhaled sharply. He put his hands on Emily's shoulders. This was his first real interaction with Emily since she reappeared. The first real time he touched her. The first real time he stared into her eyes.

Any rational thought disappeared from his mind. Any question he wanted to ask her vanished.

"John." Emily whispered.

John melted. Nothing mattered anymore. Just Emily.

John couldn't remember anything that happened after Emily kissed him.

* * *

 **Day 69**

John awoke the next morning, alone and confused. He sat up in bed. His head throbbed beneath his hand. John looked around. Emily was nowhere to be found.

Was it just a dream? It felt real enough.

John swung his legs out of bed, his feet touching the sand. Something sharp poked the bottom of his foot. He looked down to see the diamond ring and the chain. He picked up the ring and chain. He watched the diamond in the sunlight. He took a deep breath.

John slipped the ring onto the chain and clasped the chain back around his neck.

He went around the bed, glancing quickly to see no one in the bathroom. He walked to the front door and kicked away the mound of sand that accumulated at the threshold. He soon uncovered his gun that he would have to clean later.

John looked at the dune where he thought he saw Emily.

For a moment, Emily was back there at the dune. The night sky descended on her, and she turned back to smile at John. Her white dress twisted in the wind, the sand spiraling around her. In a whisk of wind, she was gone. Just a vision. Just a dream. Just a nightmare.

John shook his head.

He went back into the safe house, tossing his gun onto the bed. He stopped when he noticed footprints leading to his tablet resting on the nightstand. The footprints weren't his, they were much to small and delicate.

They were Emily's.

John picked up his tablet and looked for anything that was recently changed. His notes had been updated in the middle of the night. At the bottom of his file on Emily, there was a single sentence.

"After Tripoli, we'll be in Pretoria."

Pretoria, South Africa.

John started packing his things to head to Tripoli, hoping to cut off Emily and Otto there. But he knew his hope was misplaced and booked a flight to Pretoria anyways.

He got into his Jeep, one hand on the wheel and the other holding the ring.

Emily was there in the safe house last night. But why? How did that fit into Otto's plan? What was their endgame? What did they want to do with an android army? Were they planning a revolution? Revolt? Uprising? Anarchy?

Was ruining John part of it, too? Or was he just someone in the way, who had to be tossed to the side?

Did Emily break his heart? Or did Otto do it on her behalf?

John sighed and resorted to staring at the sand dunes as he drove.

He had a sinking feeling that catching and stopping Emily was going to take a long time.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed! I hope you got a feeling of a desert mirage (not that it necessarily was one) or a dream/nightmare (not that it necessarily was one) while reading this!

Please review, favorite, and follow!


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